


Nobody's Savior

by ShadowBat48



Series: Nobody's Weapon [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Tragedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Abuse, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 73,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27177068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowBat48/pseuds/ShadowBat48
Summary: Darren is now Renegade, working alongside Batman and the other members of the Batfamily. But fear of the Court still weighs heavily on Darren along with a new threat and new truths that endangers not only Darren but anyone by his side. Is it worth it to truly be on the heroes' side or will Darren need to become something darker to save those he cares for? Sequel to Nobody's Weapon
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake
Series: Nobody's Weapon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983688
Comments: 11
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! As promised here is the next part of the series! I hope you like it!!

Darren sat on the edge of a rooftop in the center of Gotham City. Shivering slightly in his cloak. He stiffly pulled it tighter around his shoulders. His movements had been sluggish all night because of the cold and Darren did not like the feeling it gave him. Winter was awful. He used to love the snow and the cold, but now that he was a Talon—an undead (ex)assassin for the Court of Owls—the cold shut him down. It froze Darren like a statue if exposed to it without proper layers or protection, a Talon could shatter because of the cold. He'd seen it happen once, and it was not pretty or inviting. Darren's Renegade suit, the mantle he took up after proving to Batman—Bruce Wayne—he could behave and not kill anyone, was insulated but this particular night was a frigid one so he was forced to wear the black cloak that was heated like those electric blankets people used.

Sitting around didn't help much. Not at all. But Darren was on probation, even though it had been nearly a week and a half since he started working with the Bats, and couldn't go off on his own…not yet. He still needed to prove himself, they'd only just let him bring his dual blades on patrol with him. There had been a long and extensive argument about that. While it was a risk to let an assassin who was just learning to be nonlethal out on patrol in a city full of people with weapons, Bruce and Damian—the ones who were training him, with the occasional help from his cousin Dick and Tim or better known as Nightwing and Red Robin—figured it was better for him to have them in case the Court attack. They were still slighted that Darren refused to obey them and that he had slaughtered a significant number of their members, Talons and Owls—the ones in command of the Court—alike.

They still wanted Darren. They wanted to control him, make him their assassin again…or they wanted to kill him. Darren didn't know which and neither did his contact within the Court, Malik, or Calvin—another Talon who was Darren's friend and who had also escaped the Court—who has been MIA since he helped save his life weeks ago. And speaking of MIA, Darren's father still hasn't contacted him since they talked before Dick barged in on their conversation. His father and cousin hated each other, for many reasons known and unknown to Darren. Slade Wilson, or commonly known as Deathstroke a feared and highly wanted mercenary, was his father. Slade and Dick had history—the rather unpleasant kind of history. Darren was slightly relieved his parents hadn't been married, otherwise, Slade would be Dick's uncle by marriage and he did _not_ want to see Dick's reaction to that. Though the thought still brought a small grin of amusement to his face,

 _"Are you still there?"_ came a gruff voice through the phone in his hand,

"Yes," Darren stated gruffly. Technically there were no phones allowed on patrol, but Darren needed his that night so he snuck it with him, not only because he needed help but because he was bored out of his mind. This person wasn't on their comm device frequency all the time either,

 _"Then make it quick kid. I need to tail this mob boss and if I have you yapping in my ear I'll lose him,"_ Jason Todd growled from somewhere in the city below…or somewhere else entirely. The—sort of—pariah of the Bats never really let the other members in on where he went and what he did,

"Didn't know you were so distractible, very unprofessional,"

 _"Kid,"_ Jason growled angrily. Darren sighed and bit his lip before responding,

"I need help?" he didn't know if that was the right word,

 _"Like help on my algebra homework kind of help or_ help?" Darren rolled his eyes and sighed, running his free hand over his forearm. A subconscious nervous habit he'd developed after being mercilessly tortured by his great-grandfather, William Cobb. The scars that were cut into his skin were just under the suit and sometimes Darren unconsciously rubbed at them as if they still pained him.

In addition to being one of the only other vigilante members that has killed, Jason was also the only one who had _been_ killed. Like Darren himself. Now, at that thought, Darren unconsciously rubbed the back of his neck, how he had been killed—a snapped neck—and sighed. No matter what, those things never really left him. They bothered Darren no matter where he was or what he thought and it was tiresome. Jason helped him through the nightmares…or he would more often if Darren actually called him for help. He was still getting used to letting others help him shoulder the burdens he bore, and getting comfort from nightmares was still new to him. He did not have the most emotionally supportive upbringing…or so he'd been told by the others,

"No to either,"

_"Then what is it?"_

"A favor," that was a better word,

 _"What kind of favor?"_ Darren quickly explained what he had planned for a while now,

_"Are you sure? There's no going back if you go through with this,"_

"I'm sure,"

_"I dunno, this seems like something that is irresponsible and not my call to make,"_

"C'mon Jason. It'll help me, it's illegal and it'll piss Dick off. You can't refuse that," silence on the other end, for so long that Darren was worried he'd been caught by the mob boss but then Jason let out a sigh,

_"Dammit, you know me too well. Fine. Just let me know when this is happening,"_

"Oh…and one other thing,"

_"What?"_

"What should I get Dick for his birthday?"

"Seriously?"

"Come on, please! I have no idea what to do, I've never had to do something like this before!" Darren tried not to sound as desperately lost as he felt,

_"Just get him something with elephants. He likes them,"_

"That's not helpful,"

_"Then ask someone else…wait…aren't you supposed to be on patrol? You know phones aren't allowed!"_

"Yeah like you follow that rule," Darren rolled his eyes, 

_"I follow my rules, you follow Bruce's that's the deal you made. When you're older you can patrol anyway you want but as of now, you want to play by Bruce's rules because you don't want to kill anyone—even if they_ do _deserve it,"_

"Jason," Darren muttered rolling his eyes, "Yes I'm on patrol…well, I'm _supposed_ to be," Darren muttered glumly,

 _"What's up? Did Bruce bench you for tearing someone in half?"_ Darren ignored the reference to his enhanced strength, speed, and agility,

"No. I'm partnered with Tim and he's doing 'recon' and told me to sit here, be quiet and wait for him to come back. I mean, I'm an _assassin_ I _know_ how to be quiet and I know how to collect information without being caught,"

 _"Tim's a perfectionist and despite working on a team with a bunch of teenage superheroes he's not that used to working with people, or having to babysit someone,"_ Darren decided to ignore that statement,

"Yeah well it's annoying and belittling,"

_"Wow, big words for a dyslexic,"_

"Shut up," Darren hissed, feeling unusually defensive and angry by that statement,

 _"Just teasing, relax,"_ Darren heard someone land lightly on the roof behind him,

"Got to go. Good luck tailing the mob boss,"

 _"Kick some ass kid,"_ With that Darren stood up and faced the person behind him. It was a Talon, but one he knew as a friend _—_ sort of _—_ not an enemy,

"Malik," he said, his breath dancing in front of him. Darren pulled the hood of his cloak over his head more so his ears were covered.

"Novice," that's all Malik ever called him. Like his father and cousin, he and Malik had a rocky history though as of now they were allies and it was never to the degree of Slade and Dick's hatred for one another. More akin to cold indifference common amongst Talons,

"Do you have what I asked for?"

"It was not easy to get and I don't even want to know why you need it, but yes," he pulled out a small vial filled with a reddish liquid. Darren grimaced at the sight of it, his old wounds stinging as if remembering what it felt like to have that poison racing through his veins. For a Talon there were three chemical drugs that encompassed their life: Electrum, the Serum, and the Cure. Electrum was what made them Talons. It brought them back from the dead with enhanced abilities and an extended, virtually ageless, life. The Serum is what poisoned or killed them, fast or slow it all depended on the concentration. And finally, the Cure, which saved them from the fate of the Serum, though it took a while to take effect and to flush out the Serum. Darren had experienced all three and survived, plus Mirakuru, a drug biologically inherited from his father which added to the abilities provided by the Electrum,

"Thank you," Darren murmured taking the vial carefully from the older Talon and putting it in one of the compartments of the belt around his waist,

"This life seems to fit you well," Malik said, "It is good to see you less…unhappy,"

"Yeah. Thanks, I guess. You should get going, you don't want anyone to see you talking to me,"

"What do you want with the Serum?" Malik asked, not leaving without answers it seemed,

"I need to for myself,"

"What do you plan on doing?" for some reason it seemed as if Malik was concerned all of the sudden,

"I'm not going to kill myself," Darren stated dryly, "I want to get a tattoo," he'd been considering it even before becoming Renegade, but he thought that once he'd settled into that role the oppressive feeling of the scar's message would go away, but it hadn't. It had become stronger, Darren's self-doubt doubling along with it,

"What?" Malik stated, _"Why?"_ Darren understood Malik's confusion. Talons developed mutated, deteriorated black veins in various locations on their body a month or two after becoming a Talon. It was a nasty side effect from the Electrum and being brought back from the dead. Darren, having not only the Electrum in his bloodstream but Mirakuru, didn't develop those mutated veins _—_ something he was thankful for. But to Malik there was no point in creating _more_ ink colored swirls and designs on the skin, that was why he thought it was a ridiculous thing to do,

"To hide my scars, I don't want to be reminded of the Court every time I see them. I want to remember that freedom is a gift and that I am lucky to have it and I should not waste it," Malik stared at him for a moment before shaking his head,

"And you think covering them with a tattoo will do that? I don't think I'll ever understand your generation or you for that matter. Do what you like, just don't kill yourself in the process, you know what that poison can do,"

"I won't, now go, Red Robin's on his way I can hear him coming back," with an eye roll and huff of a breath Malik was gone leaving Darren alone on the rooftop,

"How did recon go?" Darren asked as Tim landed on the roof a few paces away, trying not to sound too annoyed at being left behind,

"There's drug business going down, fear toxin and vertigo by the looks of it, at the harbor. Scarecrow isn't there yet and I think we should step in,"

"I hate drugs," Darren agreed, "let's do it," with a sly grin on both their faces they started off towards the sound of trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

Darren was jumping on the tumble track when Bruce walked into the training room down in the Batcave the next morning. Darren chose to ignore Bruce until the older man walked over to where he was,

"Did you finish school for the day?" Bruce asked him. Darren continued jumping, stalling his answer. He knew Bruce already knew the answer to that. Technically Darren had already gotten his GED, but due to the fact that it was probably fake and they didn't have any proof that he took it, he had to still get educated. He was a minor after all and it was the law. He could take the GED test again, but honestly, Darren didn't think he'd do as well as he did before. It had been hard enough when he took it the first time and again, it was probably faked or something along those lines...there was no real indication that he'd even passed the exam to begin with. Bruce had suggested homeschooling, so that's what Darren agreed to. It was better this way, no one would get hurt or held hostage for knowing him or having him in their school. While the Court couldn't touch him while the custody case is pending, they could still get to him through other means. Being home-schooled was the safest thing to do. The only issue was that Darren did not like school that much. It was never really easy for him, he was dyslexic and while he was smart in his own right, it was difficult for him.

Homeschooling wasn't all that bad though. For one Darren could work on whatever he wanted, as long as he completed the appropriate classes and labs within the school year, and of course he didn't fail. He could stop the videos whenever he wanted and go back if he missed something. But he also got bored, he just sat in the manor for the duration of the schooling session. Darren threw a backflip, and Bruce's frown deepened. He was annoyed that Darren was ignoring him,

 _"Darren,"_ he nearly growled. Darren glowered down at him still jumping,

"I got bored," he stated simply, flipping forward this time,

"You know the rules,"

"I know the rules _you_ agreed to," Darren didn't exactly want to antagonize Bruce, but he knew the older man didn't trust him. He'd put him through a grueling and demeaning simulation training test to see if he could control the killer instinct he'd been raised to enact...until it was practically second nature. But Bruce also set Darren up to fail by raising the levels of the robots he fought higher and higher. He'd also used a dog whistle on him, knowing it would incapacitate him due to his enhanced hearing which was painful and embarrassing. Though Bruce did offer him an olive branch of peace by letting him become Renegade, even if he was on probation. Bruce sighed,

"You can come down here when you finish for the day. Just get the work done and you can come back down. You know you'll be benched, like any of the other boys, if you fall behind on assignments or your grades drop," he said evenly, "If you are stuck on math Tim will gladly help you when he comes home from school," Darren slowed his bouncing before huffing out a breath,

"Fine," was all he said before jumping to the ground and marching out of the Batcave. Once upstairs he settled himself in the corner of the L-shaped couch in the main living room with his computer, notebook, and headphones but didn't immediately start working on the current history lesson he had been doing before deciding to take a break. Darren after a mere few minutes of staring at the instructor droning on, instead looked up how much it would cost to get a tattoo. Darren would probably have to pay double because he wasn't eighteen yet…though he _could_ probably pass as such, he was tall for his age.

The main issue was that Darren technically didn't have any money. He had an inheritance but Darren couldn't touch that until he was twenty-one and everything had usually been taken care of for him, even by the Court and the Powers—the despicable family that took him in per request of a fake will which planted by the Court to get him in the clutches of their allies. He was supposed to be taken in by the Drakes, yet that didn't happen. With a sigh, Darren loaded up the next video of his history lesson for the day and continued with school. He knew how to solve the money problem but didn't like what it entailed. There was only one place that would have the money he needed: _Crowne Manor_. Darren would so get benched for this as he would have to get the money during patrol, but if it eased his conscience about his scars, then it would be worth it.

* * *

Darren kicked the padlock off the front doors of Crowne Manor, but did not push the doors open or entered. It was strange to be back here. He hadn't been here since he was five, but it still looked familiar. It was large, just as big as Wayne Manor, though the crest on the doors and gates leading to the house was very different. He'd taken care of all the alarms, they shouldn't go off when he entered. Though Darren may not be the best at hacking, and was pretty slow at it, he still got the job done. Tim might have been impressed if Darren hadn't ditched him halfway to their patrol quadrant, Tim had probably told Batman by this point and they were out looking for him. Darren turned off his comm device before patrol started, so he didn't know what the others were saying or doing. Perhaps he was going to extreme lengths to get this tattoo done, but he _needed_ this. Darren couldn't bear the feeling of helplessness looking at his old wounds gave him, it would make him a liability on patrol. The feeling his wounds gave him brought him back _there_ , to the Court. Trapped on his stomach while William carved into his back, taunting him and laughing as he did so. Darren shook his head hard, forcing the thoughts out...letting out a harsh stream of air trying to calm himself. It never used to bother Darren to this degree, but ever since he started out as Renegade, he had been constantly wondering how long it would last before William was proven right. With another deep breath, Darren pushed open the doors to Crowne Manor.

Everything was covered in white cloth. The walls decorated with paintings and the walls adorned with covered statues. The wooden floor creaked as Darren stepped forward, letting the doors click shut behind him. Everything was dark and the creaks and groans from the house settling echoed loudly throughout the mansion. It sounded like muffled wailing to Darren as he took another step forward. Everything was covered in dust, it filtered down from the chandeliers above him and caused his senses to flair up. His eyes watered and he felt a sneeze coming on. But he closed his eyes and fought the urge, he just needed to find the safe. The safe was where a portion of the Crowne fortune was. The rest of it was in the bank, of course, waiting for Darren to come of age. But some of it was here and he only needed a bare minimum of it to get what he needed. It was a heavy-duty safe with a dozen silent alarms, but if Darren remembered the code he could get into it. It occurred to him that the Court could have broken in and taken it, but then why would they need him in the first place? Perhaps they weren't as dishonorable as Darren thought, or there was more protecting his finances than just a safe...he didn't know nor did he, at the moment, care.

Darren started up the stairs, his ears twitching at the simplest of noises, his blue-grey eyes sweeping over every inch of the building. He took everything in. He had run down these halls on unsteady legs, he trailed after his mother as she wandered from room to room and sat on the chairs by the grand fireplace with his grandfather for the short while he'd been alive after Darren had been born. He didn't like the feeling it gave him. Some sort of nostalgia mixed with sadness. It didn't feel like a home anymore. It felt like a tomb, where the ghosts of the past walked and wandered through a home they once enjoyed. It felt empty. He did not like being here. But Darren continued on, he needed to find that safe. He knew it was behind a painting, he remembered it from his five-year-old memories. They were locked up tight in the past, but he remembered glimpses of this place. The memories almost seemed like dreams now though, like they hadn't really happened at all. But the memories of his mother always appeared the brightest and Darren knew time wouldn't wear those away…at least he hoped it wouldn't.

Darren turned down the corner and found a painting at the end of the hall. The one of his great-great-grandfather. He looked stern and unhappy, and Darren figured it was painted after Amelia had revealed she was pregnant with Dick's grandfather, it was said that he was never truly the same. The 'shame' they kept a secret really wore him down—or perhaps it was something else, unknown to the rest of the family and Gotham that was wearing him down in soul, mind, and body—and he died soon after the baby was born, but before William stole the child and took him to Haly's Circus. Few knew what really happened to the old man, Darren knew it was William who had killed him and the Court who had covered it up as some unknown illness. Darren could still see the man's timepiece displayed in William's chambers at the Nest in his mind's eye...a reminder of what happened to those who crossed William Cobb. Darren supressed a shudder as he pushed himself forward.

suddenly a rather loud creak echoed through the cavernous house and Darren stopped, his hands reaching towards the swords strapped to his back and stilled, freezing so suddenly it was as if he became one of the many covered up statues and antiques that decorated the house. No sound followed so Darren silently moved towards the safe again, tugging the painting down from the wall only to stare blankly at the face of the safe. Darren didn't really know what to expect, he'd thought the code would just come to him as some memories did occasionally, but there was nothing. Darren bit back a curse, frustrated with himself. Of course, he wouldn't remember the code to the safe. And even if he did it would just get rearranged in his head. Darren wasn't good with ordered numbers, they switched every time he looked away and then back to the page. Darren started off back down the hall, searching for a piece of paper with numbers on it, a file in the office… _anything_...the feeling of desperation buzzing around in his head, his body, his soul. But Darren found nothing. He stormed back the way he came and turned another corner, ready to search the next hallway only to freeze. Darren stood staring at a door near the middle of the hallway. He remembered that door vividly. He _knew_ that room.

Entranced Darren walked towards it and pushed the door lightly. It creaked open, the locking mechanism had been destroyed. He remembered that. It was _his_ room after all from before he'd been taken by William to the Court of Owls. The room was exactly how Darren had left it. A mess, filled with toys and plushies, a child's easel, a toy set, legos, action figures of all sorts as well as coloring books scattered all around. A strange disconcerting sense of familiarity ran through Darren a feeling almost like vertigo swirling the contents of the room around him dizzily. A dresser stood against the wall and Darren could see the clothes of a five-year-old poking through. His bed was shoved in the corner to the left of the dresser, the way he insisted it be so he'd have more room to play. It was a twin bed, not the large one he slept in when he lived with the Talons and then again presently with the Bats. A green comforter, like the one he chose for his bed at Wayne Manor, was pulled tightly over dinosaur covered sheets. A thin layer of dust covered everything, like the rest of the house.

Darren stood in the center of the room, unsure what to do and unsure as to why he came in here. He turned on the spot, taking everything in. All the toys, the pictures tacked onto the wall of child drawings and finger-painted pieces of artwork. Darren had forgotten how often he used to draw...it felt more like a dream than a memory a hazy boggled film hovering over his mind. The green curtains were open, letting the moonlight spill onto the dark green carpet in the center of the room. All at once, it was too much. All at once, Darren felt so many things, _too_ many things. Nostalgia, pain, the bittersweet feeling of happiness, and fondness for the memories he had in this room. Darren could see himself in his mind's eye playing with each of his toys, running around through the legs of his mother, or any staff member or adult that had come to the mansion. He could see himself coloring diligently in the corner by the window in the sun and all at once Daren couldn't remember if he was here or there— _then_.

But he also remembered _fear_. Darren remembered that terrible night, after the car accident when the police whisked him back home to await further orders on his predicament when there were loud noises and crashes below, and the people he'd grown up around as well as the police members who escorted him home yelling and screaming downstairs. He remembered feeling so alone and sad and frightened and those emotions overwhelmed him. Darren remembered crawling under the bed, pulling his stuffed toy monkey down with him and whimpering softly in fear until the door was kicked open—that was how the lock broke, it was rendered useless by the kick—and a tall, armored man with a mask shaped like an owl's head stepped into the room and yanked his child-self out from under the bed by his hair—while he kicked and screamed and fought to get free—and then roughly grabbed him by the arm, keeping him still,

 _"Pack a bag child,"_ the voice of William Cobb had hissed, _"You're coming with us."_ And Darren remembered feeling helpless, for he had no other choice and so he had done what he was told. Darren remembered being tugged down the hallways and stairs. He remembered seeing the blood and the bodies and the other Talons moving them around for the cleaners who would be coming in after they were gone to make everything spotless again, he remembered the horror he felt at seeing such gruesomeness. They would erase anything they had done in that manor house. No one would know what really happened, only what the Court of Owls told them.

Darren blinked and stumbled back a step, slamming into the dresser. He shook his head, he didn't remember moving from the center of the room. He'd been lost in his memories, and Darren hadn't remembered something that clearly from back then, from his childhood, in a while. Those _people_ …all the people who had worked for his family for years, those cops…they were all dead because of him. He'd _forgotten_ about them. He'd forgotten whether they had family members. Whether they were sons or daughters, mothers or fathers, brothers or sisters…he'd _forgotten_ them all. Darren took a shuddering breath, and then another…and another and it suddenly felt like the room was spinning, or closing in on him…or both. Was…was he having a panic attack? He didn't know for sure, Dick was usually there to deduce that was the issue, someone was usually _there,_ or at least _now_ there was someone there or nearby. Darren never really had such overwhelming moments with emotions before, he was used to the stagnant numbing void that was the Court drifting from moment to moment day by day night by night with only snapshots of hysterics clamped down and forced into nothingness; a means of survival, the only way to survive in the Court. But now Darren was around people who encouraged showing emotion and discussing things that bothered them, they allowed expressive emotions...welcomed the breakdowns, it was odd and slightly terrifying or better yet mortifying though Darren hid his consternation at the Bats strange ways well. But now Darren was alone again…and he didn't know what to do. Darren slumped down to the floor and jerked his head between his knees and tried to calm himself and his breathing...that's what Dick tells him to do usually. _Close your eyes and breathe slowly...try and be calm, be calm, be calm._ He closed his eyes, but then opened them instead focusing on the grain in the wood of the floor, tracking its branching path with his gaze. Trying to think of anything other than the past,

"Darren?" A voice asked. He jerked away from the voice on his left, scrambling away from the dresser until he bumped into the bed before he realized it was Tim standing over him. Darren didn't even hear him throughout the house, or hear him come into the room,

"T-Tim?" he demanded, "W-what, what are you doing here,"

"I think I should be asking you that question," Red Robin muttered, he was glaring at him and Darren instantly felt bad about ditching him,

"I'm sorry," he said,

"You know it's technically illegal for you to come here, at least right now. Until you're twenty-one the grounds are private to everyone, including you and including us," he meant the Bats when he said 'us,'

"I needed to come here,"

"For what?" he questioned, "You broke dozens of rules, not to mention got me into a near panic trying to find you, thankfully you didn't destroy your comm device and I could track it. You're lucky no one else thought to try and check the tracker in the comm, then manually turn it back on once they realized it was off and you were _gone_. Dick would have never forgiven me if something had happened to you. The Court is still out to get you, you can't just run off like that. You should be getting your ass handed to you by Bruce for this but _I_ didn't tell him or anyone, so you tell me _right now_ why you are here,"

"I needed to get into the safe," Tim stared at him with disbelief,

"You came back to this mansion…to _rob_ yourself?"

"It's _my_ money," Darren growled, his breathing finally resettling a distraction running its divergent course, "it's _not_ stealing,"

"What for? You could have come to us with this, you shouldn't have to pay for something on your own,"

"I couldn't. This is…well…it's kind of illegal," Tim sighed,

"What are you talking about. Why do you need this money, be honest with me Darren. Let me understand what's going on. You've been on edge since you've become Renegade— _don't_ deny it, I can tell—isn't this what you wanted?"

"Of course it is!" it was the truth, "But…I've just been wondering how long it will last,"

"Probation won't be forever—,"

"—not that," Darren hissed reluctantly...he didn't enjoy talking about his feelings or internal struggles. It irked him still, but Tim gave him no choice, "Just…me _being_ Renegade,"

"It'll last however long you want it to," he said simply,

"I'm not like you guys. I've killed before and sooner or later I'll probably do it again," Darren muttered bitterly,

"What makes you think that? Do you want to kill again?"

"No!" Darren looked away, down at the patch of moonlight on the floor, _"William,"_ he hissed by way of explanation to Tim's first question,

"He can't touch you Darren. Not while the trial is pending, it would look bad for the Powers if something happened to you,"

"He's still there," Darren insisted gesturing at his back, "At my ear, in my head...these scars, they're _reminders,"_

"Of what?" Tim asked, sitting down across from him, lightly picking up a toy dinosaur and inspecting it,

"That I'll always be an outsider, that I'll always be the one who kills and that I'll never be free. That the Court owns me," Darren recited painfully, resting his chin on his knees,

"That's bullshit. The Court doesn't _own_ you, you're _not_ their property. That's not how anything works. You're a _person,"_

"That's how it is to them,"

"It doesn't have to be," Tim stated softly, "I can't imagine what it was like growing up there, or even going through what you did…what they made you do, what they _did_ to you, but don't let them win," Darren shrugged,

"We can remove the scars," Tim continued on, "…Usually we don't mind. I guess maybe it reminds us that what we do isn't painless and that we are still just human...that overall what hurts us saves other people's lives. It's different for each of us... _personal_ I guess. Though we do remove facial scars—they're too noticeable. We can do the same if they're causing you this much distress,"

"No! That's not what I want to do, I don't want to be a coward,"

"It's not cowardly to want them gone," Tim stated firmly,

"But I still want them to be a reminder…but a better one, a reminder that it's _my_ choice whether or not I'm free and whether or not I'll kill again. That it's my decision what these scars mean...not...not Wi- _his,"_

"So what will you do…that's illegal…to do that?"

"I'm going to get a tattoo," Darren explained simply, "But I don't want Dick to know, or Bruce. I don't want their judgment or pity or concern...at least not yet, so I did all this. I needed the money and the safe is the only thing I could think of. Go ahead and tell me it was a stupid plan,"

"It's not stupid…but it was stupid of you to think you'd remember the code after ten years. You were _five, t_ here was no way that was gonna happen,"

"Thanks," Darren muttered dryly, "Very insightful,"

"C'mon," Tim declared standing up, "I'll help you get it open," Darren lifted his head in disbelief,

"You're helping me?"

"If this eases your mind, then yes. You don't deserve to deal with doubts and fears of failing at something you want to do, and if getting a tattoo helps you with that then it's definitely a worthy cause,"

"...Thank you," Darren said standing, the words feeling bitter on his tongue. Gratitude meant an obligation, owing someone else...it didn't sit well on Darren's shoulders even if he was not in the Court. Who was to say the rest of the world didn't act similarly,

"Don't mention it," Tim replied, surveying the room one last time, "It's a nice room. Not too grand, seems you got to decorate it however you wanted. I didn't get that so my room in Drake Manor was pretty bleak," Darren often forgot that Tim had lived in a Manor house just down the road from him years ago. It had seemed like Tim was always a member of Wayne Manor, he'd assumed the role so easily...fit in so perfectly...a chamelon effect that Darren could just not master,

"Yeah," Darren replied, looking at the room again, hoping the memories and the feelings from before didn't circle back vulturous and venemous, "It was pretty great," he agreed, his tone lamely monotone,

"The lock's broken it's the only one in the house that's like that," Tim mused, "I wonder what caused it,"

"William broke it," Darren stated mutely, grimacing at the alarm surging through him at the sound of his great-grandfather's name, before pushing it all away and stepping past Tim out into the hallway. He briefly had a snippet of a memory, the halls splattered with blood before he blinked and it was gone. Darren shook his head, trying to dispell the image and visceral sounds and smell that washed over him like an after-image of memory,

"I don't want to come back here," Darren said out loud continuing slowly back the way he came before Tim could say anything.

Tim expertly hacked the safe, without tripping any alarms in place, and Darren took a few stacks of hundreds, whatever he had extra there was he'd save for later—who knew what he'd need his own money for—before both he and Tim left through the front door. Darren had a series of memories assail him, moments that had been locked away in his head from years ago as they walked back through the manor. Some were good memories, of happier and brighter times…but most were from the night he was taken by William and they were an unpleasant stain on the mansion's memory to Darren. As Tim finished soldering the padlock back together Darren again muttered,

"I don't ever want to come back here," Before turning and starting for the motorcycle parked out of sight from the main entrance, eager for the rest of their patrol to continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter!! I definitely did some editing, added a few details here and there and changed some dialogue. I find that sometimes since I was younger or a different person or had a different mindset, that what certain characters say or how they react to certain things doesn't align with my views now or how their characterization would play out. So I alter that to fit what feels right. 
> 
> As for the bit about scar removal, I don't know how effective the process actually is or if there really is a complete scar removal process in general though in my mind I imagined the Bats might need to use that for unique identifiable scars that would risk their secret identities. I personally would never remove my scars, I used to be upset about them or how noticeable they were but my mom, perhaps a little ironically considering the context of this chapter, always said to me "scars are tattoos but with better stories." Now I also personally think a lot of tattoos have significant stories/backgrounds/meanings and I know there are some scars that do not have great stories, but back then it did make me feel better. 
> 
> Enough of me rambling on about my past and my mother's old sayings. If you have any questions comments or concerns PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT! I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	3. Chapter 3

Tim could tell Bruce knew something had been off at the beginning of patrol. He had that look, the look of pensive questioning, and a slight glare. Like he was trying to unravel or deduce some grand scheme set up by some Arkham escapee. Thankfully there hadn't been a breakout during his and Darren's escapade to Crowne Manor, but Tim knew Bruce saw that something was up. Surprisingly though, he didn't approach either of them about it. Or at least he didn't say anything to Darren, who headed upstairs much more eagerly than he normally did. Barbara and Stephanie had already left, they headed in early that night on account of Barbara having a meeting in the morning and Steph a test. Dick was sparring with Damian to get any extra adrenaline out of their system and usually Tim would be upstairs and curled up under the covers with his computer researching for certain cases they still had to close after a hot shower but Bruce made eye contact with him and said,

"Tim, a word," he held back a sigh but walked over to his adoptive father. He'd promised Darren he wouldn't say anything—personally he didn't know why the younger boy was keeping this a secret, but he understood his desire to do this on his own. A lot…and by a lot, Tim meant _way_ too much…had happened to Darren, and sometimes in order to get through all that you need to do something, anything really, on your own. The need for autonomy and control over the situation too much to be able to rely on others. Just because there were others willing to be a shoulder to lean on did not mean you had to take it. They were there when you needed them, but you didn't have to be there for when they offered that support. And sometimes you just didn't want others to comfort you right away and other times you just didn't feel like you deserved to be comforted or needed to talk about what was bothering you. Tim had been there many times, and that was where Darren was. He didn't like letting others help him, Darren had been raised to believe that everyone was against him and that the only way to survive was to keep to yourself and to fight for yourself. Now he was surrounded by others who didn't live that way and it was hard to adjust. Therefore Tim would not tell Bruce explicitly what happened and why, rather he would just skirt around the truth,

"Where did he go," Bruce asked, he didn't even clarify the 'he',

"Who do you mean?" Tim asked, playing dumb. He wanted to see what Bruce had deduced,

" _Darren_. I know he went off-grid during patrol and a while later so did you," that was true. Tim, after realizing that Darren had turned every communication device off and had gone completely silent as well as hadn't told him where he was going, had done the same. He felt that Darren wouldn't appreciate it if everyone noticed something was wrong and followed Tim to where he was. Tim gnawed on his lip a bit before answering,

"You already know where we went," he replied, Bruce sighed,

"Why did he go to Crowne Manor. He knows he's not allowed there until he's twenty-one," so Tim had been right,

"You put an additional tracker on him? Without him _knowing_ ," he hissed, "Do you seriously still not trust him?"

"I have additional trackers on everyone and they don't know about, including _you_. It's safer this way in case one of you is lost or taken by someone. I can find you more easily. Criminals know about the comm devices and about the distress beacon in our belts. An extra no one knows about saves lives,"

"Darren probably won't see it that way, and you didn't answer my question,"

"I do trust him, but he doesn't trust us. Not completely. This is for his safety. If he went off without the tracker on him and got caught by Talons, who knows where he'd be…and who knows where _you'd_ be if you'd been there when they caught up to him. This is for _everyone's_ safety,"

"I think you should change that 'us' to _'you'._ He doesn't trust _you,"_

"Do not change the subject, and you still haven't answered _my_ question. Why did he go to Crowne Manor?" Tim shrugged,

"He was nostalgic. It's the month his mother died, he wanted to feel close to her I guess. The mansion was when he lived a happier life…well mostly," Tim muttered, remembering Darren muttering how he never wanted to go back to the manor. It was unfair that the Court tainted the memory of his own home, nowhere probably seemed safe to Darren anymore and that was depressing, "Trust me, he won't go back there again…and I'm sure he'll come around to trusting you again, give him some time. And next time he goes off-script I'm sure he'll bring it up with you first," it felt like an empty promise, no...a lie, but Tim wanted out of this conversation,

"I hope he does. I didn't like stealing his trust in me with that training exercise, but it seemed like the best way to teach him change doesn't happen in a few weeks," Bruce let out a sigh before saying, "Go get some sleep, Tim. And be sure to tell me where you're going if Darren does go off-grid again. I was concerned for you two." With that dismissal, Tim hurried upstairs.

* * *

Darren followed Jason through the busy bustling almost mid-December day in Gotham City. It was nice to be out and about after hiding away in Wayne Manor for so long, the only positive to having a court case pending that could either send him back to the Powers or let him live with Dick until he turns twenty-one. The waiting was killing him, they still had four to five months before the case is going to happen, and every day it still felt farther and farther away even as the supposed date drew nearer. And even with the case in process and the whole entire process staying in the news, he was still at risk of getting swept up or killed by the Court when he was out of the Manor which is why Darren had to be with someone when he was in the city. It was frustrating, and he felt slightly smothered by the attention. Darren was used to people not caring what he did as long as he remained loyal to the Court. But now things were different and because things were different Darren wanted them to _stay_ different. Not just because being free from the Court and being able to live his life the way he chose to was extremely important to him now, but because going back to the Court after running away and joining their sworn enemies would be worse than hell. He shuddered to think of what they'd do to him…he worried about it often. Darren thought of all the horrible things William and the rest of the Court would do to him if the court case went wrong.

The first thing they'd do is have him kill all the Bats—or kill the Bats themselves and make him watch, Darren didn't know which was worse—then they'd put him on ice—after torturing him a bit for running away and refusing to obey them—, leaving him frozen for as long as they wanted until Gotham forgot about him and the Powers would get his inheritance money, the grounds of Crowne Manor, and only then would they unfreeze him to be used as an assassin slave. A killer when they needed him to be, a torturer…a hunter of anyone who wrongs the Court in the Owls' eyes. The Bats _couldn't_ lose, Darren would rather die again than go back to them. He just got his taste of freedom, and while he wasn't completely relaxing and enjoying life it was better, so much better than the life he lived before. And better yet it was Darren's life, not the life others had chosen for him,

"What's wrong?" Jason asked, "You've been mindlessly weaving through the crowd with an excessively worried expression on your face. What's bothering you?"

"It's nothing," Darren muttered, blinking and shaking himself from his thoughts,

"Liar," Jason replied but didn't add anything on. That's what Darren usually liked about Jason. He didn't pry. Or try to make him feel better for thinking about horribly morbid thoughts,

"How far are we from this tattoo place you know of?" Darren asked,

"About half a block," was the answer. _Speaking of dying_ Darren thought morbidly as he grabbed Jason by the sleeve and tugged him into the nearest alleyway, "Hey! What the hell kid!" Jason demanded,

"Shush," Darren stated, "Relax,"

"Why?" Jason asked, "Are we being followed? Did you hear something?" He glanced behind and above them as if expecting the shadows to start moving,

"No,"

"Then why—what is _that?"_ Darren had pulled out the vial of Serum that Malik had gotten for him,

"I need you to inject me with this,"

"What the fuck? _No,"_

"Please?"

"I said _no!"_

"Jason. This is the only way the tattoo won't heal over immediately after it gets applied. The Electrum and Mirakuru in my blood will just recognize that the _needle_ digging in and out of my body—creating the tattoo—as dangerous and injuring me. If I don't do this then the tattoo won't stay,"

"Are you serious!" Jason exclaimed, "I will not poison you just so you can get a tattoo, this is _insane,"_

"Fine, then I'll do it myself. I didn't actually need your help I was just being considerate,"

"Really? Asking me to inject you with something that could kill you is being considerate?" Jason asked incredulously. His blue-green eyes were narrowed angrily and Darren didn't understand why he was so upset about this. Instead of asking for a reason, Darren moved to plunge the syringe in his arm,

"Okay, no, just fuck no. You're not doing this, you'll kill yourself," Jason insisted, grabbing the syringe from Darren,

"Hey!"

"I'll do it. I don't trust you and your dyslexic brain," normally Darren would've punched someone for saying such a thing, but Jason seemed very worked up over this, and to be honest, Darren wasn't sure he'd be able to do this effectively his hand was shaking too bad for it to be steady. Perhaps Jason was actually worried for him, or maybe he wanted to be blamed if the others found out about this or perhaps Jason agreed to do it for a completely different reason that Darren just couldn't see or understand. Jason carefully slid the needle into the crook of Darren's arm and pushed the plunger down slightly, not all the way…too much would actually kill him,

"You better hope that no paparazzi are here to witness this or your court case is going to take a nosedive," Jason muttered as he crushed the syringe under his foot, rendering it useless for any druggie who came by this alleyway searching for something to use. Darren didn't even want to think about what Serum did to normal people, "How do you feel?" he asked Darren, who was swaying slightly on his feet with a slightly puzzled expression on his face,

"Weird," Darre answered, "I feel weak and fine at the same time…a little nauseous too," Darren had only ever been exposed to the larger, more agonizing, doses of the Serum the small amount was...different,

"That's not too bad, just don't pass out on me," Jason muttered, "This idea of yours better work. I won't ask you how you got that vial…but do not let that out of your sight. If it gets into the wrong hands someone could kill you,"

"I understand," Darren growled irritated, "Now let's get this over with before I pass out or vomit,"

"Or both," Jason added helpfully as they started towards the tattoo shop again.

Once they entered the shop the one guy who was there for the shift took one look at Darren and Jason and just shook his head. The tattoo parlor was a dinky little shop in a pretty shitty part of Gotham, to be honest. Pretty different from one of the wealthier districts they walked through only moments ago,

"S'up Morty, where's Rick?" Jason said, smirking like it was some kind of joke. Darren didn't understand it,

"Very funny asshole, " the guy said before looking over at Darren and glaring, "No way in hell. I don't care how tall you are, you are not eighteen. And I don't care who you are Reddie, the cops are on my case more now than they used to. Someone keeps snitching," the guy sneered,

"Don't be like that Morty," Jason drawled, "I know you do give kids tats if they want them, you sell drugs too but not to the kids— _right?"_ Jason growled, his expression turning menacing. Morty nodded rapidly clearly fearing for his life, "This is a special case. Trust me,"

"Most of those kids had money to pay me or some other means to pay the price," Morty replied with a snort,

"And this kid can pay you," Darren stated, pulling out his stacks of hundreds. Morty's eyes widened and a grin slithered onto his face,

"That'll be—," Morty started but Jason cut him off,

"I know your price when there's not permission from a guardian or parent…and you're lucky I let you live for scamming those kids. You probably scam the druggies who buy from you too, so they'll be doing my dirty work for me once they find out...let's hope for your sake no one tips them off, huh?" Jason shrugged with a light grin on his face, before continuing, "But you're not going to scam this kid or me for that matter. And I brought his guardian's signature," Jason slapped a piece of paper down on the table, with Dick's familiar scrawl on it. Technically Dick was not his guardian yet, but Morty didn't know that. Morty looked unimpressed but sighed,

"Fine, two-fifty per hour. What do you want kid?" Darren explained what he wanted,

"It'll make more sense when I show you," he replied, sitting on the seat in front of Morty and then pulling off his shirt with only minor difficulty due to the Serum in his system,

"Holy shit kid, what the hell happened to—,"

"—shut up Morty," both Jason and Darren growled at him. Morty shrugged, or Darren assumed he shrugged, before setting to work.

* * *

"It didn't hurt at all," Darren stated, "It felt like pin-pricks,"

"Says the guy who was raised by assassins," Jason replied as they hustled through the busy streets of Gotham. For a city that has tons of crime, it was really busy throughout the day. Everyone hurrying to and from places, to work, to meetings, to various activities that needed to be complete before the day was done and the criminals came out at night,

"I was full of poison,"

"A low concentration,"

"Oh so now you're okay with it," Darren said, rolling his eyes,

"Did I say that?" Jason growled, shoving Darren as they walked, "Don't ever pull that kind of shit again or I _will_ tell Dick all about this,"

"You're just saying that," Darren stated, "Why do you let Morty tattoo those kids,"

"Because we made a deal, whenever he gives a kid a tat he tells me who they were. I find them and try to convince them to leave that life behind and do something better. Same with the drugs, I make sure anyone in my haunts who do sell drugs don't give it to the kids. Anyone who does anything differently answers to me and they usually don't stay alive,"

"Does that work? Talking to the kids I mean,"

"Some of the time, but I'm pretty sure I leave a pretty good impression to remind them about the conversation years later. Some people I save, some I don't. It's the effort that counts,"

"They still have the tattoo,"

"Perhaps for those who gave up the thug life use it as a reminder themselves, like you do. Or they remove it," Darren let out a grunt of agreement as he looked around at all the people walking around them. Everyone was so urgently trying to get to where they needed to go. They were unaware of what was right in front of them. Two trained assassins, a mob boss, maybe a few more guns for hire right there living their everyday life before their real livelihoods started,

"I don't see why you don't want Dick or Bruce to know," Jason stated after a moment or two of walking in silence,

"I have my reasons," he didn't want them to know because they'd try to talk him out of it or miss the reason why he wanted to do this…why he felt he needed to do this. Dick was wonderful and Bruce was hard to understand or predict his moods but they were the kind of people who wouldn't see eye to eye with Darren on this. At least that is what Darren told himself...perhaps he feared the rejection or the anger they might express in light of getting a tattoo; Darren didn't want to lose the only two people dedicated to his survival,

"That doesn't seem really—," Jason continued on but Darren's attention drifted to something else, a person…a girl, in a dark green coat walking along the sidewalk, weaving through people holding a book in her hands. He didn't understand how she could just walk and read at the same time without bumping into someone, she couldn't be reading very thoroughly to be able to move through the crowd so well. He began to focus on what Jason was saying when the girl stepped into the street just as a crosswalk sign turned red and a Gotham bus screeched down the road towards her.

Darren was sprinting before he even realized he intended to save her. She was walking too slow, enthralled in whatever book she was reading and the bus driver was a _Gotham_ bus driver, he wouldn't stop. Darren had always been fast. Talons-to-be were trained to be fast as all other Talons were fast and always fought like the trainees were Talons themselves. Despite the Serum in his system Darren reached her with record time to spare and tackled her back onto the sidewalk, disrupting the flow of the pedestrian traffic. The bus blared its horn, briefly deafening Darren and causing his already throbbing head to ache more. Darren squeezed his eyes closed, shaking his head so he could hear the girl speak,

"—get off me now?" she was saying. Darren opened his eyes and saw yellow-green eyes stare back… _golden…golden yellow-green eyes_ stared back. Darren scrambled off the girl, nearly falling over himself,

"Talon!" he cried out loud, surprising even himself. Only a few walking by turned their heads towards him, but they continued on their way, ignoring the two of them. The girl stood up, shaking slushy snow off her coat, her yellow-green eyes staring at him, their intensity piercing through the haze of the Serum,

 _"Excuse me?"_ she asked, "What the hell is a Talon?"

"I—I um…" Darren wasn't sure what to say,

"Is that some sort of slang? And do people here always tackle random girls in the middle of the street?" she continued. She was tall, and seemed to be around Darren's own age…but looks can be deceiving. Her eyes still had this almost metallic yellow within them…usually a sign of a healing Talon…could Darren be wrong about what he assumed she was?

"It…there…the bus,"

"Yeah, I know. I heard it, I saw it. It would have stopped," she stated simply. Darren stared at her, she said it so sincerely like she actually thought that was true,

"This is _Gotham_ …buses don't stop for jaywalkers," the girl bit her lip, thinking apparently as she reached down and picked up her book. It was covered in slush and Darren felt a little bit bad but he didn't say anything,

"I…I suppose I should thank you," she stated, "I'm not from around here. Just moved here a few days ago," Darren was starting to think he had her pegged wrong…but those eyes. Those yellow-green eyes. They worried him, what they implied worrid him. As long as he didn't know the truth…there was always the possibility he was right no matter what evidence came to light saying he was wrong. Darren couldn't get the truth right now without tipping off the Court—if they were somehow involved—in the process, "So…thank you,"

"You're welcome," Darren replied, "Are you hurt?"

"No," she said, "All good," she smiled lightly at him. The girl was built willowy but also lean, like a tiger, there was muscle there. Darren felt it through her coat when he tackled her. She had dark hair, so dark it almost appeared black, but Darren could see it was still brown—a very very dark brown—with a dark red streak on the right side. Darren opened his mouth to ask for her name,

"What the actual hell!" Jason yelled, suddenly standing next to him. It had started to snow again and Darren hadn't even noticed, "I swear to God I am this close to calling Alfred and having him drive your ass back home!" Darren grimaced in embarrassment as the girl, her eyes still a mysterious yellow-green, laughed lightly,

"I think that's my cue to go…uh, thanks again…I guess," she stated, crossing the street again this time safely, her book tucked under her arm instead of in front of her face. Jason was still yelling in his ear and Darren barely heard him as he turned to the nearest garbage can and vomited into it,

"We can't leave yet," Darren stated after he stopped upchucking—Jason stopped yelling when he lurched for the trash bin—, "I still need a birthday present for Dick,"

"That's what online shopping is for," Jason growled, "We need to get you the Cure, and fast I don't want to see what else the Serum will do to you, and we need to get you inside. It's snowing and you'll get _cold_. C'mon." Darren felt too awful to argue. All the adrenaline from saving that girl was gone leaving the fatigue, weakness, and nausea from before. He followed Jason back to where he'd parked the car he borrowed from the Manor. Though Darren felt slightly delirious, his mind kept wandering back to those strange eyes…and he couldn't help but wonder if she was with the enemy, spying on him for the Court—keeping watch on their traitor just waiting for him to slip up. Because if she was, he _would_ kill her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New character...? Or just a one-off? Stay tuned to find out!! I hope you liked this chapter. I definitely changed a bit of this chapter but I worry it was still a bit rambly and didn't have the same depth that the later chapters develop, and the later stories in this series develop. Either way, it gets there eventually.
> 
> As always PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT. I always love to hear peoples' thoughts especially when new and somewhat intriguing things happen in the story. All comments are welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

Darren kicked at the legs of the stool he was sitting on in the Cave. Today was lab day for school and he had to do it down in the Batcave. He figured it was safer than upstairs in his room and it actually made homeschooling easier since they had the Cave to do experiments in. He was only half paying attention to Tim though, who had volunteered as tribute to help him through the lab. It was for biology and while it was not Darren's worst subject, it was still difficult to decipher what he had to do and understand how to complete the lab when reading the instructions. Tim was home because it was a staff development day which meant the kids didn't have to go to school and the teachers did for meetings and stuff. The funny part, as Tim put it gleefully, was that since Tim was in high school and Damian was in the middle school—Gotham Academy went from elementary through to high school but had "separate" buildings for each of the schools—Damian still had to go to school that day. Darren didn't get why Tim was so maliciously delighted by this but he didn't try and clarify. He'll leave Tim to his small victories.

Darren was still lost in thought. He couldn't get those yellow-green eyes out of his head. It was pushing his paranoia to the limit. Was she a Talon? Was she spying on him? Or was she just some random citizen with a unique eye color? What did all this mean…if _anything?_ Darren's skin prickled uncomfortably and he suppressed a shudder, he felt like there were eyes watching him from everywhere. He needed to solve this mystery or it would drive him over the edge,

"Okay. So just cut the—Darren are you even listening?" Tim's voice interrupted Darren's racing thoughts,

"No," he stated bluntly. Tim let out a sigh but put the paper down,

"Okay. What's up?"

"Nothing," Darren insisted, his tone reserved unsure of how Tim would react to what was dogging him mentally,

"You're a terrible liar,"

"Well, I'm not lying. I'm not a terrible liar if you're just assuming I'm lying...you don't actually know if I am,"

"Okay smartass," Tim snorted as he rolled his eyes, "Talk or I'll fail you,"

"You can't do that! Only Alfred can!" It wasn't that Darren particularly cared about failing or about school in general, but he knew what it would mean for patrol and being Renegade as well as what it would mean in terms of Bruce and Dick's approval. Darren couldn't lose that, he needed them...and perhaps a small part of him wanted at least Dick to be proud of him about something even if it was just school,

"And if you can't write up this lab report because you didn't understand the lab experiment you will be failed by Alfred so I'd start talking," Darren let out a loud exasperated groan before glancing around the Cave, making sure no one was there before talking,

"Okay, it was after Jason and I went to get the tattoo,"

"How did that go by the way?"

"Great," Darren said, "I actually managed to sleep through the night for once!"

"Uhh…great?" Tim stated frowning, opening his mouth as if to say something more though Darren quickly plowed onwards eager to avoid Tim's addition to that statement and to get that girl out of his head,

"Forget I said that,"

"I won't, but continue,"

"Well, on the way back I saw this girl," Tim raised an eyebrow and grinned, "What?" Darren asked, interrupting himself,

"Nothing. Continue,"

"And she almost got hit by a bus, so I tackled her onto the sidewalk so she wouldn't…you know… _die,"_

"Okay, not how I thought this story would go,"

"How did you think it would go?"

"Nothing. Continue," Darren glared at him before doing just that,

"And she had these…yellow-green eyes and it just got me thinking…what if that whole thing was just a trick to see what I'll do? What if she's a Talon, spying on me for the Court and it was all just planted to see what would happen and how I would react? What if the plan was for her to play damsel in distress just to get my guard down so that I trust her. Then we'd just conveniently run into each other from time to time until the Court inevitably swoops in and kidnaps me again…or kills me. Whichever comes first," Darren said, doing hand motions for the theoretical 'swooping' of the Court,

"Wait…you think she's a _spy?"_ Tim asked incredulously,

"What else would she be? Those eyes…they had gold in them, like a Talon would while healing. And I had just tackled here onto pavement, there would have been cuts or scratches or roadrash or _something_ ,"

"Like gold flecks? Or were they actually gold?" Tim asked,

"Flecks…I guess…I mean maybe a little shinier than just flecks but it wasn't the complete eye,"

"Wow. You observed _such_ detail,"

"I was trained to be aware of my surroundings. _All_ of my surroundings, that include the people right in front of me Tim. They could be spying on me and I don't even know it. Am I losing my touch...the training I was force-fed by the Court...or am I just being stupid?" Darren questioned seriously,

"Well for one, I don't think she's a spy. You said she'd just moved here a week ago—,"

"— a few days ago and it could be a _lie,"_

"It might," Tim agreed, "Or you're just being paranoid. I mean people have all sorts of details like gold flecks in their eyes naturally without Electrum or other things like color changing contacts. Also, your eyes turn _completely_ gold except for the pupil when you're healing. Not flecks, all gold…one shining color,"

"I don't care…I don't know for sure and I need to know!" Darren almost hissed, "I can't get those eyes out of my head,"

"Are you sure it's because you're paranoid that she's a spy?" Tim asked, a grin on his face,

"What do you mean?" Darren asked raising an eyebrow,

"I mean, why did you really save her? You were a civilian, not Renegade at the time,"

"No one was really paying attention," Darren said defensively, "And why does it matter why I wanted to save her? I died, I know what dying is like she didn't deserve to die—well I thought she didn't until the possibility came up that she was a spy for the Court of Owls. Isn't saving someone's life something you would _want_ me to do? I mean isn't that the whole point of this?" Darren gestured to the rest of the cave, and Tim followed his movement a small frown tugging at his lips,

"Well…not at the cost of revealing your secret identity," Tim replied,

"For people who try to save every life they possibly can, you can be quite hypocritical," Darren monotoned, waggling his pencil in the air trying to make it look like a worm,

"That's beside the point," Tim growled, "Are you sure about her?"

"Yes, I'm sure,"

"Was she pretty?" Tim asked,

"I…guess? I don't know. I wasn't paying attention," Darren stumbled through his reply unsure of what her appearance had to do with anything,

"But you were, I mean you had to be paying attention to be able to save her and you were said you were trained to be aware of your surroundings,"

"Well that doesn't mean I was thinking she was pretty…she was actually walking with a book in front of her face and I was thinking that wasn't a smart thing to do because you'll just bump into people and walk into the middle of streets and nearly get run over, which she _did!"_

"Okay. I'm gonna put this bluntly…were you _attracted_ to her?"

"Why would I be attracted to a spy? That's ridiculous and dangerous," Tim sighed and closed his eyes and shook his head briefly before opening them again,

"You know what, never mind. Clearly you have no idea what I'm talking about so I'm just going to say this. Let it go. She's not a spy, she's just an innocent civilian you saved from dying in a painful bus crash. Good Samaritan deed done for the day. Her eye color doesn't mean she's a spy,"

"But—,"

"No buts, don't let this consume you. Not everyone with somewhat golden eyes is a Talon. I know you're worried about the Court taking you again but they can't do that, not right now. Besides, the gold color, that goes away quickly for a Talon anyway, it's a sign the Electrum is healing you…it doesn't make your eyes permanently golden yellow. So let this go, and let's finish this lab,"

"Okay," Darren sighed, taking the scalpel and moved to cut the tops of the strawberries off, but his thoughts again wandered to why Tim would think he even liked a complete stranger right off the bat and how being attracted to someone would mean only then he would save them. He would save anyone in immediate danger regardless of what he felt or didn't feel toward them, at least he'd like to think he would. Darren was trained to take lives not necesssarily save them. Was that why he did it? Only to prove he wasn't the monster the Court made him into? Or was it just instinct..or did Darren only jump into action for some obscene need for approval. Shelfish need...had he even cared at that moment what happened to that girl or was he only thinking of keeping his precarious position of trust with the Bats and the protection they provided. Thoughts twisted themslves in Darren's mind jumping from one depraved thought to another, a sinking feeling, a pit, forming slowly in his stomach. Suddenly Tim was snatching the scalpel from him,

"Hey!"

"You almost cut your hand!" Tim snapped, "Blood…especially _your_ blood…would ruin this experiment,"

"Or make it more interesting!" Darren stated, Tim let out a small laugh before sobering,

"You know what I've always wondered?" Tim started, cutting himself off as if realizing what he had in mind was probably a bad idea,

"What?" Darren asked, morbidly curious,

"If you cut off a Talon's hand…would it grow back?" Darren thought for a moment, shuffling through his fractured memories from the Court trying to remember if he'd ever seen that happen,

"You know…I don't actually know…I've never seen that," Darren and Tim looked at each other before looking at the scalpel,

"For science?" Tim asked,

"We're gonna need a bigger scalpel."

* * *

"Okay, wait…will this hurt?" Darren asked as Tim raised the Batarang,

"You don't feel pain!"

"Yeah but that's like, cuts and knife wounds and poison and illness and literally everything but amputation…that I know of," Darren held his left hand out on the table. To be honest he was a bit nervous,

"Fair point but—,"

"—What the _hell_ are you two doing!" Dick's voice rang out from across the room. Darren and Tim stared open mouthed as if caught stealing Alfred's cookies as he marched over to them. Dick looked angry,

"Cutting my hand off," Darren stated simply,

"For science!" Tim added quickly,

"No! Are you serious! Just _no!"_ Dick snapped, yanking the batarang out from Tim's grasp, "Are you two that _idiotic_ to try something this _stupid?_ We don't know what will happen!"

"That's also a fair point," Tim muttered, "What were we thinking?"

"Yeah this is stupid…I'm a lefty, I _need_ this hand. Well, I'm actually ambidextrous but still, two hands are better than one,"

"Yeah, we should do a pinky…or like the top joint of the pinky,"

"No! _No amputation!_ That is not allowed. New rule, no amputation! I am revoking all batarang privileges until further notice and until it is clear you two are not being idiots," Dick yelled. Batarangs in hand he marched up the stairs to where the safe was while Tim and Darren cackled in their seats,

"Did he actually think we'd cut of my hand?" Darren wheezed,

"I mean we did consider it but we knew it would be a horrible idea," Tim agreed, laughing, "Do you think he'll catch on that we were punking him? I mean…we should probably tell him it was a joke or he'll tell Bruce on us,"

"We'll save it for dinner. I mean I do wonder what would happen, but I'm not _that_ curious. And this is all thanks to me hearing him come down into the Cave."

"Credit given where it's earned," Tim agreed, finally calming his laughter, "Okay, let's seriously finish this lab. We need to get this done by dinner,"

 _"Fine,"_ Darren grumbled, diligently chopping the green tops off of the strawberry for the DNA extraction lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god...this was so...CRINGE. And at the same time, I've decided to keep and post this chapter partially because it is somewhat significant in solidifying Darren's paranoia concerning the mystery girl and the Court of Owls. Also because it wrestles with Darren's uncertainty concerning his place with the Bats and what the source of his action was the chapter before. That being said...I clearly wrote this with my junior year AP Biology Lab in mind...and I am regretting that now years later. Please don't judge me...or this story...based on the cringe-worthy content of this chapter. It gets better, it gets more involved and nuanced I PROMISE!
> 
> As always PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT. I love hearing your thoughts and opinions as well as criticism even if this story has already been written. Such a thing is vital even after post-publication. I'd also love to hear where you think this story is going to go because I guarantee it won't be what you think. ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Darren lurched awake, heart thudding as he shook himself out of the dream. He let out a sigh as he tried to let the panic that washed over him go. He'd dreamt that there were puppet strings attached to his hands where the pale scars from the daggers William had stabbed through them were, controlling his every movement. Darren sat up in his bed for a few moments, arms on his knees with his forehead resting against them. He took deep breaths, trying to shake away the panic he had felt as his arms and legs moved without his consent, his actions were not his own like the Court wanted it to be,

"I am not their puppet," he hissed into the silence of the darkened room, "They do not control me, they will never control me," he ran his hands across the now covered scars that extended down his triceps from his back. Darren could see the inked ends of the wings and the details of the feathers of his tattoo through the darkness and a small smile found a way onto his face. He'd asked for a tattoo of the wings carved into his back, only more accurate and better detailed, so that even William wouldn't be able to 'marvel' at his 'artwork.' The whip marks were still very visible through the slightly shaded in detail of the feathers, but the outline of the wings were completely covered. He wanted to remember the wounds, not as proof he had no will or choice of his own but as the way he chose his own future despite the consequences. He wanted to remember every time he unconsciously rubs at the scars or sees them in the mirror or has a nightmare, that he was living a life he chose and no matter how many people stood in the way of him doing that, he'd still always choose free will over anything else.

Darren's thoughts drifted back to his nightmare and the smile fell from his face. They weren't predictable now. They changed to various things, from when he was younger to his mother's death to his own death to William carving into his back to new dreams that he didn't quite know where they came from. His subconscious mind fed on hidden insecurities, fears, and paranoia deep in the vault of his mind. It dredged up things even he hadn't considered or thought of before. Things he wanted to forget.

He hadn't seen who the 'puppeteer' was and while Darren shouldn't worry about who that was it still disturbed him. He didn't like not knowing things, especially when it involved him. On top of that he didn't know what was worse, having nightmares in general or not knowing what to expect at all when he closed his eyes. He used to know what would greet him when he did finally manage to fall asleep, but now he knew nothing and knowing nothing made him fear closing his eyes.

 _Fear._ Darren hated the word, the concept. But lately he's grown to accept it. He feared the Court, more so what the Court would do to all those who helped him if they lost the court case and got him back into their clutches. Darren feared William, the scars on his back will always haunt him even if they are covered and given a new meaning. The truth William wanted him to understand will always be there lurking in the darkness waiting to be whispered over and over again in his ear by phantom voices on his darkest days. He feared hurting those he cares about, nothing would change the fact that he was dangerous. He could lose control, he knew he could. It has happened. While he was learning how to fight non-lethally, he would always have killing to fall back on, and that worried him less than he thought it would which made him fear the likelihood of him actually losing control. It was hard to see it as wrong when for so long it was encouraged. But Darren knew that it was, he knew it wasn't his job to decide who lived or who died…but at the same time, some people just deserved it.

There was no fixing people who wanted to do bad. Who wanted to kill, maim, plunder, and corrupt. They did what they did because they wanted to, or they didn't know the difference between right or wrong so why let them live to continue their reign of terror? Darren didn't know quite what the answer was, and he was scared to even ask anyone about it, so he kept those thoughts to himself. No one need know he still questioned what everyone else thought was so morally correct.

Darren let out another sigh, his thinking causing a pulse of anxiety loose. He knew he'd work himself up into a panic attack if he thought too much…at least that was what Dick warned him about. Thinking too much after a nightmare, specifically about the nightmare, can cause worrying and stress…or something. Darren didn't know but he didn't want that to happen. He hated the helplessness he felt during an episode like that. The worst part was it didn't seem to be going away, no matter what he did nothing would make that kind of anxiety go away. So Darren sat there in the dark until he didn't feel the suffocating feeling on his chest and his mind stopped reeling at the possibilities of what the nightmare was or meant. And he sat there still, unmoving, contemplating going back to sleep. He didn't want to, he was wary of closing his eyes again…but he knew he had to. Bruce said if he didn't get enough sleep, he wouldn't go on patrol. He needed to be alert, and Darren understood that, he just hated the fact that it meant he had to actually try and sleep when it was nearly impossible for him to do so.

Darren lay in his bed as the hours ticked by. Trying deep breathing to tire himself out. Keeping himself still no matter how badly he wanted to fidget. He even tried counting sheep but he still did not feel tired. He didn't know what to make of it. Sleep took forever to come, it was an hour or two after patrol that he finally managed to fall asleep, and depending on whether or not he had a nightmare that night if he was lucky he'd get about or less than six hours of sleep before the sun came up and peeked through the shades, waking him up. He'd then lie in bed hazily trying to go to sleep again before everyone else got up, but he'd only get another half-hour in before he couldn't stand lying in the bed anymore so he'd go downstairs for breakfast with Tim, Damian and Bruce—if he wasn't already at the office. Darren wondered if it was the training to stay up for days that made him like this. Sleep only came so easily at the Nest because they were training all day with minimal resting time and were exhausted from all the work.

A grimace graced his face at the thought of that training to remain awake. Hours and hours of trying to stay awake. Talons walking and keeping watch on the Talon trainees, waiting for someone to nod off before prodding them awake harshly. Or dumping ice water over the boy or girl's head, or blowing a whistle loudly and giving everyone a scare to keep them awake. Sometimes they would give you a small lash with a whip or a nick with a blade just to give you a little stint of pain to keep your adrenaline up and your eyes wide open.

Perhaps it was a little like torture, but it was necessary for training. Talons worked all hours, and often days at a time in order to collect necessary information, travel, and kill their target. And the Owls wanted their jobs done as quickly as possible. If they eliminated a great need for sleep, the jobs got done at a much faster rate. Information in the hands of the Owls within hours of their request for it, a kill done as quickly as possible, a person abducted for the Owls almost at once. Timing was key and Talons benefited from doing things quickly.

Darren flinched in his bed—he had started to nod off a little as he thought of time at the Nest—the sound of a phantom whistle echoing in his ear threw him from near sleep. Darren shook his head, his heart racing again before jumping up from the bed making sure he landed silently before sneaking out of his room and down into the Cave. He wasn't going to get anymore sleep that night.

* * *

Dick opened the door to the Manor before Alfred could do it for him. Titus came running the moment he stepped foot into the entryway,

"Hey there doggo," Dick said playfully as he scratched the Great Dane right behind the ears the way he liked it,

"At least someone in this family still uses front doors like ordinary people," Alfred said wryly as he walked over the greet him, "You didn't ring the doorbell," he added accusingly,

"I'm a grown man, I can open doors myself," Dick replied lightly as Damian came into view of the hallway,

"What are you doing here? Don't you have school?" he asked the youngest of the Waynes,

"Tt, today's a staff development day. What are you doing here Grayson," the younger boy sniffed by way of greeting,

"I'm staying over for dinner tonight," Dick stated with a grin, "Where's Darren?" he then asked. He also needed to discuss with Bruce and Darren when would be the best time to have him come over to his penthouse and look at his room. The social services worker assigned to Darren's case would be doing a walk-through of the space to deem if it was 'livable and safe.' It was a pointless task, Darren was fifteen, not five but rules were rules and laws were laws. Dick briefly wondered if perhaps they should have tried to get Darren emancipated…but that would require Darren getting a job of some kind or at least a means of income, which would put him in the public and around other people. It also might have impacted the monetary aspect of Darren's inheritance. Still, a guy could dream of not dealing with social services—though to be honest they'd still be dealing with them no matter what. They were like unavoidable pits in a metaphorical cherry.

They needed to set the guest bedroom he had up to at least look like a teen was living there…or _going_ to live there. To be honest Dick was really dreading the trip to Ikea to find a desk and bookshelf for the room, as well as dreading putting it together if need be. He truly wished Darren could just live with him, but it would be safer for everyone if he stayed at the Manor, away from others who the Court could use against him.

Dick didn't even want to think about after the court case. Either Darren would be living with them still while trying to prevent the Court from killing him or capturing without the protection of having a pending legal court case had or he'd be back in the Court's clutches and the rest of them would be fighting to get him back. It pained Dick to even consider that happening, and he had to wonder what they would do once they got him away from the Court of Owls again…they legally couldn't keep him from the Powers in that scenario,

"He's in the living room doing schoolwork," Damian monotoned, pulling Dick from his thoughts. Damian was clearly upset that Dick came all the way to see Darren and not him,

"Dami, I'm still staying for dinner and we have plenty of time before then to hang out. No need to be jealous," Dick tried to sound placating, knowing Damian and his secret tells. Damian merely glared at him,

"I'm _not_ jealous. Why would I be jealous of that narcoleptic moose?" Dick stared at Damian before blinking and saying,

"What?… _narcoleptic moose?"_ Damian rolled his eyes and stomped over to the living room, with a shrug at Alfred and Titus, he followed his younger brother.

In the living room, they found Darren asleep, his notebook on his chest and laptop on his legs a pillow beneath it so his legs won't get hot from the computer's fan. He had to be pretty tired to actually sleep during the day with so many people around,

"I see the narcoleptic part…but moose? Really?" Dick said. Damian shot daggers at him mentally before saying,

"He's tall," Dick nodded in agreement. Darren was growing fast, he'd shot up four inches since the last time they measured him putting him only an inch shorter than he was…which was disconcerting but not that impressive since Dick was only five foot ten, and while tall for normal standards especially acrobats Jason still beat Dick by a good four inches. Darren would surpass him by a lot soon enough,

"Think he'll be taller than Jason?"

"No," Damian said, "Want to bet on it?"

"No," Dick stated, he'd probably lose. Jason was six foot two…maybe a little bit more than that but in essence he was _tall_ ,

"Definitely taller than Drake though,"

"Taller than you?" Dick dared ask,

"Never,"

" _That_ I'd bet on," Dick said with a grin, "But we should wake him up. He needs to finish school or Bruce will be on his case and that is not what either of them needs. He'll also be too wired up to sleep properly tonight," he moved over to behind Darren on the couch and shook him gently on the shoulder,

"Darren, you need to wake up and finish your work," he said. When his cousin didn't stir he shook a little harder,

"Tt. Move. I'll wake him up," Damian growled. Dick turned to see him brandishing a whistle, and while it was a normal whistle not a dog whistle like the one Bruce used on him a bit ago Dick still tried to step in to warn Damian not to use it,

"Dami, I don't think—," but whatever he said was cut off as Damian blew the damn thing as hard as he could right by Darren's head. Darren shot upright with a cry of shock and before he even had his eyes open punched out to his right hitting Damian square in the nose,

"Gah!" Damian cried, stumbling backwards into Dick who instinctively caught him by the shoulders. The look on Darren's face was surprise and shock at a rude awakening but also something of…fear? Before Dick could question if he was okay, Damian launched out of his grip and tackled Darren right over the side of the couch. A very loud crack was heard as something hit the new wooden coffee table they'd gotten. Dick scrambled to the other side worried as he didn't know which of the two boys had struck the coffee table.

Damian stood in between the couch and coffee table as Darren scrambled to his feet as well, he had clearly been the one who hit the table, which Dick was thankful for only because he knew Darren couldn't feel pain and would heal much more quickly than Damian would from a blow like that. There was blood streaming down the side of his head—head wounds bled a lot, it was probably much less serious than it looked—and his eyes were a stunning celestial gold as he then tackled Damian with an angry growl, both of them landing near Dick's feet,

"Hey! Knock it off you two! He didn't mean to—Darren stop it! Stop pulling his hair Damian, he can't feel it! Darren don't try and….BRUCE!" Dick finally called trying to grab at least one of them to pull off the other as they flailed around on the carpet. This wasn't a fight like the sparring they usually had down in the cave. This was an all out brawl. A wrestling match of pure anger and aggression, "No biting! Stop this! You're both being ridiculous!" he yelled as Bruce finally made it to the room to see chaos erupting around him. With a slightly thunderous expression he reached into the violent brawl and grabbed Damian, pulling him off of Darren and holding him back as Dick reached down and helped Darren to his feet. He held firmly onto his cousin's shoulder knowing fully well that he couldn't hold him back even if he tried, but Darren didn't seem to want to fight anymore. The blood had dried on the side of his face, though a lot of it had gotten on the carpet some of it had to have been Damian's because his nose was clearly broken and bleeding…at least it wasn't a white carpet.

Darren's eyes were still yellow, which made sense, he'd hit the table hard. In his hand he held the whistle Damian had used, both of them were still, they weren't trying to get at each others throats and they stood silently glaring at each other. Darren held up the whistle and crumpled it in his hand,

"Don't. _Ever_. Use this on me again. Ever," he growled, chucking it at Damian's feet,

"Noted," Damian muttered sullenly, clearly not keen on being in trouble despite knowing what he did was significantly negative. Darren took a deep breath, then another before shrugging Dick's hand off his shoulder and striding past a stoic Bruce and a shocked Alfred and hurrying upstairs—Dick assumed he went to his room,

"What the hell happened?" Bruce asked,

"Well—,"

"—Tt, how the hell was I supposed to know he was afraid of whistles?" Damian snapped. Dick frowned at that. Startled by the noise probably, he had enhanced hearing and loud sudden noises can't be that endearing and were most likely painful…but _afraid_. That was a little much. Though the look in Darren's eye when he was woken up by the whistle seemed to support that thought,

"Let's just not push it," Dick said, "Just no more whistles. That goes for everybody," he stared pointedly a Bruce who just glared back, "I'll see if I can talk him to him and ease the tension," Dick stated before hurrying up to his cousin's room,

"I'm sorry," Darren said the moment he opened the door, "I didn't mean to punch him,"

"I know. You were startled, he shouldn't have done that," Dick said, "Damian shouldn't have attacked you either, he would have reacted the same way if you had done it to him. Though you wouldn't have felt it," Darren grimaced slightly. His eyes were back to normal, but the blood was still dried on the side of his face and some had dripped onto his green long-sleeved shirt,

"True," he muttered, "It probably hurt,"

"He'll get over it," Dick stated, "Just cool down, clean off your face—I don't know if you realized but you have blood all over your left side of your head—and maybe try to get some more work done. Give yourselves both time to cool down. There's no need for conflict, it was just an ill mannered and kind of cruel, er, _prank_ on you,"

"It wasn't a prank," Darren muttered,

"I know, but we did try to wake you…did you not sleep well again?" Darren made another face and shifted from foot to foot and rubbed the top of his arm, clearly not wanting to talk about it, "Never mind," Dick stated, he didn't want to pry and he didn't need to. Darren would talk if he wanted to and he didn't want to push him, at least not yet,

"I'm not afraid of whistles," Darren said suddenly. Dick blinked,

"Oh, uh…I didn't think you were," though Dick wouldn't lie, the thought crossed his mind...Damian seemed to think so and the look in Darren's eyes upon waking up supported the notion. But Darren didn't want his fear to be known...to him it was exploitable and despite placing his trust in the Bats, in Dick, anything vulnerable about him could and would be used against him. To Darren, he still needed protection from the people working to help him...that realization sat heavily with Dick, it disheartened him that despite everything Darren still didn't trust them,

"I heard him say it, and I'm not afraid…it's well…it's just—," he paused again and Darren's expression darkened. It was a look Dick recognized as Darren thinking or talking about the Court of Owls and Dick was about to say he didn't have to talk about it but Darren beat him to it, "It's just well, it was used for training,"

"What was?" Dick questioned, not quite understanding,

"The whistle…to keep us awake,"

"Awake? What do you mean?" Dick was starting to feel concerned,

"It was to train us to stay awake for…a few days," The hesitancy in Darren's tone told Dick there was more to the story,

"A few? How much is a few?" Dick asked, trying to keep his voice down so Darren wouldn't think he was yelling at him,

"Five,"

"They trained you to be kept awake for five days straight by using a whistle?" Dick asked incredulously. Anger following right after, that was along the lines of torture, not letting them sleep and keeping them afraid to go to sleep because the whistle would be blown right in their ear every time. Dick didn't even know how long they had to train in this…no wonder Darren never got enough sleep, it had been drilled into him to not _need_ sleep. These were odd moments, the times where Darren did reveal pieces—fractured moments—of his past...though Dick could never tell if it was for comfort or out of necessity,

"Among other things," Darren said as if it were normal. Though it was normal for him and that was the worst part, "That's why I reacted the way I did…it was, uh, reflex and I...I thought I was back there at the Nest when I was woken up by the whistle. That's all,"

"I understand and I'm sure Damian understands. It won't happen again. I'll make sure of it," Dick stated, "Now get cleaned up and calm down—,"

"—I am calm,"

"—perhaps you should stay in tonight. Take the night off from patrol," Dick continued, purposely ignoring him. Darren glared and was silent for a moment, Dick knew the suggestion felt like a punishment to Darren even if it wasn't,

"Maybe," was all he said. Dick suppressed a sigh, it was something,

"Okay, see you around...maybe try to finish your schoolwork...or get some rest before patrol?" Dick said once more, feeling as if Darren would ignore everything he said, therefore, wanted to repeat his request, before leaving back the way he came, a heavy feeling on his shoulders from the information Darren just told him. Perhaps Dick shouldn't tell Bruce what he learned, but he felt that it was also important. What Darren doesn't know wouldn't hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter! I would really love to hear your thoughts and ideas of what might happen, though I will say there's not much to go off of yet. Trust me it picks up soon. Stick with it!
> 
> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!


	6. Chapter 6

"Young Sir, it is time to wake up and start the day!" Alfred said rather loudly as he jerked open the heavy curtains covering the windows of the bedroom. Darren mutely cried out as sunlight pierced through his eyelids. He rubbed at them and blinked at the older man, trying not to glare too darkly or angrily. His stronger eyes were still very sensitive to sudden changes in light, they couldn't adjust fast enough. It was a disadvantage in a fight, but one not many people knew about,

"Don't give me that look, Master Darren. You still have school to get through today and you've slept late enough," Darren groaned and rolled over. He'd decided to go out on patrol after all, though he'd been overly exhausted upon returning afterward. Darren slept like the dead last night and it was great, only he was so tired he slept past his alarm. Alfred had been kind and let him sleep in a bit, but apparently decided his education was more important than being completely well-rested or perhaps Darren's definition of completely well-rested, "Come on up. Up on your feet. I'll have lunch ready for you and you can eat in the living room while working on that lab report," Darren groaned again and rolled onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling,

"Five more minutes," he said, doing a full-body stretch while still tangled in the sheets,

"I'll give you five minutes to get ready or I feed your lunch to the dog," Alfred stated as he started to leave the room. _That_ got Darren moving, he loved food and as much as he liked Titus the dog, he would not let him eat his lunch. Ace the dog was pickier about human food scraps, so Alfred's threat would not apply to him. Darren scrambled to free himself from the sheets and find something to wear for the day.

The house was quiet. So quiet and Darren was so so so bored. It wasn't the work itself that was boring it was just sitting in one spot, trapped by his computer on his legs and books and notebooks on his lap that irked him. Of course, he could move around if he wanted to but that usually resulted in him getting distracted by something, someone, or completely quitting on school and meandering down to the Batcave. Darren leaned back on the couch, his finished plate on the coffee table—scrubbed clean of his blood from last night—, and rubbed at his eyes letting out a yawn. He'd gotten through most of the day for school and he finished this week and half of next week for science already which was great, it was the one subjects he was ahead in. History involved a lot of writing, but Darren wasn't as behind in it as the other subjects. In English, he was lagging behind more than history but not as much as he was in math. Darren wrinkled his nose at the thought of equations and factoring and calculus and trigonometry. Math was the worst, everything just got jumbled in his head no matter how hard he tried to understand it. With a sigh he glanced out the window, welcoming a distraction, and noticed Dick's motorcycle in the driveway. Darren leapt up and ran over to where Alfred was dusting one of the shelves in the billiards and game room,

"Alfred, is Dick still here? I saw his bike in the driveway,"

"I believe he and Miss Barbara came by during their breaks to take inventory of supplies in the Batcave, we're also low on flashbangs and smoke bombs, they're replenishing our stock since Master Bruce is stuck at the office and the other boys at school,"

"I'm taking a break. Bye!" Darren said, running off before the butler could say otherwise.

* * *

"Are you sure you counted right?" Dick asked Barbara. She stopped tinkering with a flashbang device to glare at him,

"Do you realize who you're questioning?" she asked,

"Right," Dick said sheepishly, "Of course you counted right. Hard to believe we're so low on batarangs. We'll have to make more once we put these crates in storage,"

"I think we have Damian and Darren to thank for the shortage of batarangs," Barbara stated, nodding over to the back of the Cave where dummies had dozens of them embedded into various locations on their "body". Some in very lethal spots, telltale Darren throws, while others had somewhat less damaging wounds from the batarangs. Marginally improved throws. Still a lot of damage done by them, but it was a step in the right direction,

"Are they dulled?"

"I don't know. We'll have to check," Barbara said with a sigh, "His strength might dull them more quickly than we would. But it's good that he's learning not to throw to kill,"

"I'm very impressed Damian is teaching him so well,"

"Yeah. Kindred spirits aren't they?"

"I guess. Though Darren still has a ways to go before getting on Bruce's good side,"

"I think he's doing fine and is happy where he is despite being babysat by everyone. I think he even likes being taken care of," Barbara stated with a grin, setting down the last of the flashbangs as Dick tallied them off one by one on the spreadsheet he had pulled up on the bat computer,

 _"Darren, liking_ being taken care of? What Darren do _you_ know?" He asked, spinning the chair around to face his girlfriend,

"Okay. Maybe _like_ is a strong word…but he doesn't mind it as much as he used to,"

"No way. He probably feels smothered by the attention,"

"That's what he also feels, but again, he doesn't mind it,"

"I think you're way off,"

"Wanna bet?"

"I'd win,"

"Believe what you like," Barbara stated, "But he's getting used to not taking care of his problems on his own,"

"He still doesn't like it, and he still doesn't tell me things. You know he only just told me he hates whistles _not_ just because they hurt his ears but because the Talons used them on the trainees when conditioning them to stay up for five days straight _last_ night? And he even said _'among other things'_ like what else would they have used? And he sounded completely _okay_ with it!"

"It's the environment he was raised in," Barbara said as she stacked the last crate, though she was frowning at the new piece of information, "You know he won't react to things the way we do,"

"I know. But sometimes I just wished he understood how abused he was..is…was…whichever it is," Dick muttered, "I want him to be upset that was how he was raised so he would open up to being a normal fifteen-year-old,"

"Being normal is overrated," Barbara replied, "But he doesn't see how he was raised as abuse. And that's the problem. It's why he hates and sort of likes us 'babysitting' him, he just doesn't know what to make of it or how to react to positive attention,"

"It's awful,"

"It's terrible," Barbara agreed, "But it's something we need to understand and work with. He is happy here, but there's still the constant threat of the Court so he'll be on constant guard even around us. Even if we are protecting him," Dick let out a huff of a breath but nodded in agreement. He hated that his cousin lived through such things, that it was his life and he would always behave as if it were normal as well as how he never trusted easily even now, but there wasn't much else Dick can do other than be there for Darren whenever he can,

"It's a good thing he told you that bit of information, it means he's learning to open up,"

"I know that's the good part of it, but what he _does_ tell me is _terrible_. And I don't know if he's telling me out of necessity or because he wants to or because he wants comfort…or all three so I don't know exactly what to do," Dick muttered. Barbara sighed but let the matter drop,

"Okay. Are you going to help me test these things? We need to make sure we did this correctly or we'll be very embarrassed during patrol,"

"Right. Protective goggles?" he said handing her a pair,

"Yup. Bet I can hit the giant penny," she said, cranking back her arm,

"You're on," Dick said, grabbing a flash bang of his own. Just as they threw the flashbangs they heard footsteps on the stairs and Darren saying,

"Dick! I didn't know you were here, what—," he was cut off by Dick calling out to him,

"—Darren wait close your—!" he didn't get a chance to finish as the flashbangs hit their mark. Through the blinding white light, they heard a screech of pain and surprise before the sound of someone tumbling down the last few steps into the cave reached their ears,

"Oh no!" Barbara cried, pulling off her protective-ware and running after Dick to where Darren lay in a heap on the floor. They both knew he was okay, but they instinctively ran over to him as they would with anyone else,

"Are you okay?" Dick asked, grabbing Darren gently by the shoulders and lifting him up. Darren blinked, once, twice then a few times. He looked around and rubbed at his eyes,

"Yeah…I'm fine…but—," it was then that Dick realized Darren's eyes were a brilliant gold color. Indicating he was healing from something,

"But what?" Dick asked warily, patting him down and trying to find if anything was in need of setting or if he was bleeding from anywhere and that was causing the change in eye color,

"I can't see," Dick froze in his pat-down before jerking Darren's chin up so he can see his eyes and moving a finger in front of his eyes trying to get them to follow it. They didn't move to follow his finger. Darren tried to pull his chin out of his grip, but Dick didn't let him slip out just yet. He took out a little flashlight and moved it back and forth in front of Darren's eyes again. No reaction,

"Babs, get Alfred," Dick said letting his chin go and helping Darren stand fully. He didn't seem to be panicking. Maybe the shock hasn't hit him yet, or perhaps he knew this type of damage would eventually heal…possibly, they didn't actually know what they're dealing with healing Talons were still a new aspect of their normal routine. That's where Alfred came in.

Dick and Bruce had raided the library in the headquarters of the Court when they went to take Darren's chest back. Both Alfred and Dr. Thompkins were studying up on everything there was to know about Talons from the material stolen from the compound; they were the go-to people for information on Talons. Darren's eyes were very sensitive to light and two flash bangs at once could be very severely damaging for all they knew. Barbara had run upstairs while Dick brought Darren to the med bay,

"I'm so sorry this happened. We didn't mean—Darren why are you smiling?"

"This gets me out of doing school, _yes!"_ Darren exclaimed happily. Dick suppressed a groan and just sat down next to Darren in wait on Alfred the medical expert. Not a minute after Alfred got there did Dick's phone ring, it was Bruce. _Great,_ Dick thought to himself as he answered the call, _now what could be wrong?_

* * *

Technically Tim could have taken the intro to business class with most others in his grade, but he tested out of it and didn't need the requirement. Which meant he had a free period. One of the glorious things about high school. Blocks of free time throughout the day. It was great and to be honest, no matter how good he was at all things business, he really hated dealing with it. Helping Bruce out with it was painful enough. At least he won't have to deal with it ever again…hopefully. Who knew what would happen when he went to college, or rather _if_ he went to college. With a sigh, Tim turned down another hall and moved to walk by an adjacent hallway to the cafeteria when he saw something that made him stop. It was a girl. Standing in the middle of the hallway looking around. She had her back to him but he could tell that if a faculty member happened by she would definitely get dress coded. She wore combat boots with her uniform, with dark hair falling halfway down her back, a dyed piece of red pinned back in her hair. Dyed hair and shoes that were not permitted, both detailed in the student handbook. The girl was obviously new, or she would know how seriously Gotham Academy actually took the dress code as stupid as it was. Tim paused. He could continue on his way and let whatever happens happen…but she also appeared to be lost and new and she didn't deserve being sent to the office because she didn't read the student handbook carefully— _no one_ reads the student handbook anyway. His mind made up he stepped into the hallway and started towards her,

"Um…excuse me?" Tim asked, the girl turned and Tim stopped in his approach. Yellow-green eyes blinked back at him… _yellow-green eyes_. Eyes that Darren had been so suspicious about. Tim stopped in his approach and considered the girl warily. He didn't know why he did in such a fashion but Darren had been adamantly concerned and convinced that she was a Talon spying on them for the Court. And while that may not be true, her turning up here was almost too perfect. He regarded her silently. Her eyes were slightly luminous, the yellow catching the light from the nearby windows. But they weren't talon-like…they were cat-eyes, as some would say, and they were quite pretty to be honest, not that Tim would say that out loud,

"Ah, hi," She said sheepishly a small smile on her face. She seemed much more friendly than any Talon Tim's ever met, "I'm a bit lost…as you can probably tell. I'm new,"

"-Yeah, I can tell…nice to meet you," Tim said after a beat of silence. He shouldn't just assume she was a Talon. There was no reason or evidence to believe Darren's claim. He was acting on paranoia… well-placed paranoia but paranoia all the same, "Tim Drake,"

"I'm—," she was cut off by another voice calling from behind Tim,

"Hey, asshole!" Tim let out a sigh as he was grabbed by his collar and slammed into the nearby lockers by Derek Powers. The older boy had been giving Tim a hard time since the custody court date had been set. He couldn't exactly blame Derek. It must be hard dealing with your family losing the faith of the most feared, unknown, and deadliest secret organization other than the League of Assassins. And the Powers were of course dealing with a ton of shit back home, what else was there to do other than take it out on the family that's taking away the one assurance that kept their place with the Owls, "Thought you could avoid me forever?"

"No. Just didn't think you'd be dumb enough to try anything," Tim growled,

"Thanks to you and your family _my_ family is about to lose everything we've ever worked for!"

"That's kind of your own fault," Tim deadpanned,

"You, _you_ little _shit_ , are going to wish you'd never been born," Derek spat,

"Seriously get a better insult," Derek growled in anger and pulled back his arm, his fingers curled into a fist,

"Hey! Leave him _alone!"_ the girl cried, stepping right next to Derek and grabbing the arm pinning Tim to the lockers, "I have no idea what this is about but it's ridiculous and totally cliché. Get _over_ yourself,"

"Stay out of this! Let go! If you knew what monster he lived with you'd _thank_ me!" Derek growled, trying to shrug her off, she stumbled back a step but held firm and she looked very angry. The girl grabbed on with her other hand,

"I won't be a bystander to a bully picking on someone," she declared. Tim blinked at the scene before him. Derek looked ready to maim someone, maybe he should step in,

"Ow, ow, let go of me!" Derek suddenly cried, Tim glanced at her hands holding Derek's arm in surprise. _Was that smoke?_ Tim thought to himself as the hands holding him suddenly disappeared and he stumbled to the floor while the girl jerked her hands away, a confused expression on her face, "You…you… _burned_ me!" Derek yelled, rounding on the girl who backed up clearly not knowing what just happened. None of them did,

"Are you serious?! I grabbed your arm but not _that_ hard. I just wanted you to let him go. You are acting _insane_ ," Tim had to have imagined the bit of smoke he saw. It was a trick of the light. Derek took a menacing step towards the new girl and Tim had to intervene,

"Leave her out of this, she has nothing to do with this," Derek turned back to him,

"You're right twinkle toes, it's all about you and your stupid family ruining everything," he pushed Tim into the lockers and then landed a punch. Tim hissed in pain but remained standing, he let Derek get another punch in before checking him into the other wall of lockers. He didn't care what Bruce said about keeping his nighttime persona separate from his civilian life, he wasn't going to let the brat win this fight and brag about it to everyone. Perhaps it was petty, but Tim at the moment didn't really care. Derek scrambled back to this feet and Tim got about three good hooks in before Derek hit him in the gut with his knee. Though Tim hadn't thrown his punches full force. He didn't want to knock Derek out for real, hitting his head on this floor would cause problems,

"Stop it both of you! You'll get in trouble!" The girl was yelling at them, trying to get them to stop, she didn't seem to know how to break them up so she just stood there watching and shouting at them. They were now both trying to get a grip on the other for another hit, "Stop it! _Don't hit him!"_ the girl screamed, her yellow-green eyes fierce in the corner of Tim's vision. In an instant Derek tripped over nothing as he lunged forward and sailed into the lockers on the other side of the hallway, his right hand gripping an open locker to keep his balance,

"Seriously! Stop!" The girl growled to Derek as he regained his footing. In the next instance, the locker Derek was grabbing onto slammed closed. Tim winced as the girl gasped in shock at the pained scream Derek let out. Tim had never had a door slam on his hand, but he's seen Dick get shot in the foot by Jason so he figured it was kind of like that level of pain,

"Looks like your baseball season's not gonna happen," Tim monotoned. Derek gave him a withering look of pure hate,

"You're all _dead_ …you know that? There's nothing you can do to save him from them and the rest of you are all in the crossfire," Tim's expression darkened at that threat,

"What in the world _happened_ here?" A teacher had finally come to investigate all the yelling and screaming. She came into the hallway and saw two bloodied boys, one with a hand trapped in a locker and a girl with a dress code violation. The girl hurried over to the teacher,

"This guy just attacked Tim," she said, pointing from Derek to Tim, "and he tried to defend himself that's all. And the locker…I…well, I have no idea what happened with the locker. It was open and then _bam_ , it slammed closed," the girl clapped her hands closed as if to visualize the incident of the locker. Which Tim was baffled by, there was no logical explanation for how that happened. It was _odd_...this whole _day_ had been odd,

"It's true," Tim said, though his voice sounded thick. He reached up and winced as he touched his nose—the probable cause for his distorted voice—which was bleeding. Derek's nose was bleeding too and he had a black eye. The locker suddenly screeched open—to everyone's surprise—and Derek pulled his wounded hand to his chest with a pained expression on his face before he glowered again,

"Well this chick burned me!" he growled hatefully,

"I grabbed your arm you wimp!" she shouted indignantly, "I did that so you'd let go of Tim who _you_ attacked for literally _no reason,"_

"Then explain this!" Derek snapped, turning as much as he could without jerking his hand around to show his coat sleeve, which was singed and flaking off fabric,

"I didn't have a lighter on me. I swear, and I wouldn't do that even if I did," the girl stated. Tim thought she sounded genuine, and he didn't see anything in her hands when she grabbed onto Derek, but anything could have happened and he missed it because of the angle at which he was being held. The teacher clearly wasn't buying it,

"All three of you to the office. Now!" she declared,

"Yes Ma'am," Both Tim and Derek said stiffly, used to the standards for fighting for Gotham Academy,

"What why me?" The girl demanded, "I tried to _stop_ this fight!"

"You've violated the dress code dear. We take that seriously here at Gotham Academy," the woman replied snidely, "Now. To the Office," The girl stared angrily at the woman before turning on her heel and starting down the hallway away from where Tim still stood,

"Uh…office is this way," Tim called to her. She turned around with an indignant huff and started walking with him to the office. The still open locker slammed shut suddenly again as they passed by it, "I was going to warn you about the dress code," Tim said ignoring the weird locker and trying to be nice, "I…uh…got a little distracted understandably," The girl let out a sigh,

"It's okay. Thanks for the thought I guess. This is just so ridiculous,"

"It's Gotham Academy," Tim said as if it were the answer…and it kind of was. When kids had the money to pay off pretty much anything that comes up against them, dress codes are the easiest way to lay down some authority in the school,

"He threatened you…you know that? I heard him _'You're all dead?'_ Why didn't you say anything? And what did he mean when he said you couldn't save him…who's _him?"_ the girl asked,

"No one," Tim nearly snapped, "It's none of your business," She was only curious, but it was too close to Darren and Tim hadn't decided for himself whether or not she was trustworthy enough to even mention his family or Darren. He wouldn't risk it, not just yet. The girl frowned though she didn't press for answers.

The rest of the walk to the office was in silence and just the two of them. Derek had gone off to the nurse for his hand. Tim knew he should start a conversation. Make her feel a bit more welcome than she probably did due to the fight…but he didn't. He just didn't know what to make of her. He was being silly, but something was off about her. And Tim didn't know her. One interaction with a family member was chance but twice was too much of an easy coincidence…and perhaps it meant something deeper. Tim didn't know what to think, so he stayed silent and so did the girl, who he never actually got a name from. Now though, as the headmaster loomed before them, Tim was just dreading the call to Bruce about this fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter and that you found some amusement from the flashbang incident as well as Darren's enthusiasm over not being able to finish school for the day. I also hope you were intrigued by the sudden appearance of miss mystery from earlier on in this story. I wonder what theories you guys have or if you think she's just a red herring. 
> 
> As always if you have any questions, comments, and/or concerns PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a longish note at the end of this chapter, I do recommend that you read it. The later notes at the end of chapters hold some interesting information on my thought process while writing these chapters and how they connect to the characters in general.

Darren hoped it didn't show that his hands were shaking…that his heart raced in a near panic. Perhaps he'd been all smiles and cheekiness after he'd fallen down the stairs and opened his eyes to only see blackness, but internally…he was terrified. He couldn't see. A vital sense, something Darren relied on more than most. Talons could see far. They could see for miles and without that ability…what was there he can do? Darren hoped the damage wasn't too bad. He needed his sight to return. He needed to see again or he'd be in even more danger than he'd ever been in before,

"Are you alright Master Darren? You are unusually quiet," Alfred asked. His voice came from directly in front of him, but all he saw was unyielding blackness. Darren didn't know what he was doing, but it was probably something medically related,

"I'm fine," Darren answered, his voice sounded clipped. Everything sounded odd to him now. His body adjusting to the sudden loss of a sense. His ears were strengthening the scope of their hearing to compensate. He never knew that would happen as quickly as it did. Perhaps being a Talon sped the process along,

"Will they heal?" he asked after a few more moments of deafening silence,

"They appear to be doing so. But your retinas _are_ severely damaged. It could take a long time for them to heal,"

"How long?" Darren asked, trying to keep his voice neutral,

"End of the day? Mid-day tomorrow at the latest. It is not predictable, but they _will_ heal," the older man said, placing a hand gently on his shoulder, "there is no need to worry,"

"I'm not worried,"

"As you say," Alfred stated, clearly not believing him much to Darren's chagrin. Footsteps sounded and Darren jerked to face whomever was approaching, even though he could not see them,

"That was Bruce," it was Dick, and he didn't sound happy about it,

"What's wrong?" Alfred asked,

"Tim got into a fight at school,"

"A fight? _Tim?"_ Alfred exclaimed, clearly surprised,

"Yeah. I said that too. Bruce wants me to head down there, he's stuck in a meeting and will have to come in a bit later. Can I borrow a car?"

"Of course,"

"Darren want to come?"

"Sure. Not much for me to do here," Darren muttered, he got up and started in the direction of what he assumed was the stairs, only to crash into a roller cart of some sort with various supplies on it. They crashed and clanged onto the ground as the whole thing toppled over,

"I gotcha," Dick said, gripping him by the shoulders and steering him in the right direction. A gesture Darren had to forcibly prevent himself from pulling out of, despising the feeling of hands on his shoulders...so close to his neck, "We'll get you some sunglasses to cover your eyes. Don't want people wondering why your eyes are suddenly gold," Darren merely grunted his agreement, not trusting himself to speak. He hated this, he was now a liability…but his eyes _would_ heal. Darren knew they would…but _still_.

* * *

Darren knew three things once he and Dick stepped into the office. One, there were three different heartbeats in the room other than Tim and the Headmistress's hearts. Two, Dick's intake of air meant he was shocked by who else was in the room, which meant that he knew the other people. And three, Dick also muttered,

"Of course," under his breath. The others in the room also let out huffs of air and a snort of disgust. Darren knew those sounds anywhere. The Powers. He felt only hatred and dread. He should _not_ have come, not at all,

"What is _he_ doing here?" a voice sneered. Derek by the sound of it,

"Perhaps you should take the vermin outside?" Shepard growled lowly,

"Shepard," Lydia chided gently, though if Darren could see he was sure she'd have a sly cold little smirk on her face. Tim, who was seated nearer to them let out a groan and slumped back deeper into his chair,

"What's with the sunglasses loser?" Derek jeered,

"It's to keep me from seeing your ugly mug," Darren quipped, it was a stupid insult but it still shut Derek up,

"I presume…that perhaps the… _issues_ between the two families are what caused the scuffle in the hallway—," the Headmistress started,

 _"Scuffle?_ He _broke_ our son's hand!" Lydia hissed, "He slammed it in a locker!"

"You slammed his hand in a _locker?"_ Dick hissed at Tim,

"Nice!" Darren cheered quietly…though everyone heard him,

"Mr. Crowne, behave please," the Headmistress said, rather seriously,

"I had nothing to do with his hand breaking," Tim snapped, "That locker closed on its own!"

"With enough force to crush his bones?" the Headmistress pointed out fairly,

"The only thing I did was punch him a few times because he cornered me when I was helping a new student out," Tim growled. The door opened and Bruce stepped in,

"Sorry I was late—," he stopped himself, probably out of surprise at seeing the Powers probably,

"Thank you for stepping out of the office for this Mr. Wayne…as you can see, there's been a skirmish between Timothy and Derek Powers. I understand your families are involved with a legal dilemma…but violence because of this cannot be tolerated,"

"He had it coming," Derek growled,

"So did your hand. Your other one as well," Darren snapped, moving forward a step,

 _"Darren,"_ Dick hissed, grabbing onto his arm. Darren couldn't help it, just hearing their voices, knowing they were a few feet in front of him made his blood boil. Plus Derek attacked Tim because of him. He would not allow that to happen a second time and if breaking every bone in Derek's body got that message through…so be it, "Calm down,"

"Perhaps Mr. Crowne should wait outside," the Headmistress stated, "This does not involve him and I'd rather sort through this quickly," Darren didn't move,

"Darren. Wait outside," Bruce said. He still didn't listen,

"Darren. _Please_. Go outside for now," Dick said. With a grunt, Darren complied, managing to open the door without looking like a fool, and stepped out into the main office of the high school building encompassing the Headmistress's own office. If he recalled correctly there were chairs off to his right…though he didn't have a chance to count how many steps they were from the door. With a sigh, Darren walked diagonally until he bumped into a filing cabinet and then stepped to the left a few steps before turning to sit down,

"Hey! Watch it!" a voice called out, startling Darren. He stumbled forward before spinning around to face the person who yelled at him. Even though he couldn't see who it was. He figured it would be impolite to not look at them-or at least where he assumed their face was-especially since he'd been about to sit on them,

"Sorry…I didn't see you there," he stammered out. He hadn't realized there was anyone else out there. Darren thought that heartbeat belonged to someone outside the main office at a locker or something. He'd misjudged the distance,

"Obviously," the voice stated…they sounded familiar. Darren bit his lip and scuttled to his left again before sitting down, successfully in the seat next to the other person waiting outside the Headmistress's office. The voice was definitely female…and familiar. Darren didn't know why,

"I…well…I guess I should apologize," the girl said,

"It's really okay," Darren said, "I _was_ the one who nearly sat on you,"

"Well I snapped at you…and you did save my life a few days ago," Darren stiffened. The girl with the strange yellow-green eyes sat directly next to him. He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm…if only he could see…he would be able to see if she had any weapons concealed, _anything_ at all,

"It's…really…it's fine," Darren stumbled over his words. They sat in silence for a moment or two after that, "Why are you here?" he asked. He needed information. Maybe she'd tell him something useful, something substantial that connects her to the Court in some way,

"I've been dress coded. Apparently, combat boots and dyed hair are not allowed 'under any circumstance,' even if you are a new student,"

"That's ridiculous," Darren couldn't help but say,

"Tell me about it," the girl said in agreement, "Though…I may have also been accused of setting someone's jacket on fire,"

"Whose?"

"The jerkface who started the fight they're discussing in the office," she said, the sound of the chair creaking indicated that she jerked her head toward the Headmistress's office or at least something along those lines,

 _"Excellent,"_ Darren again, couldn't help but say,

"I take it you don't like him?"

"I haven't met anyone who does,"

"He came out of nowhere and started yelling at Tim. Threatening him even," Darren glowered at that. No one threatened his friends and got away with it, "I hope he gets what he deserves. Tim was trying to help me," Darren frowned at that too. Why would Tim help her after all Darren had told him about his suspicions? Silence fell over them again,

"What's your name?" she asked. Darren felt tongue-tied. Was this her trying to confirm whether he was the Darren Crowne she was meant to keep an eye on. The Court would be stupid not to use a Talon Darren's never met to spy on him. And he's never laid eyes on her until he saved her life from that bus a few days ago. Darren didn't want to answer, but something in him just couldn't be that impolite to her,

"Darren," he said, "Darren Crowne,"

"Do you go to school here?" she asked,

"No. I'm home-schooled,"

"Oh really? May I ask why?" _because it's safer than having me around anyone else in public while there's an evil assassin organization after my ass_ Darren growled in his head,

"It's better for me right now…I'm going through some… _family_ issues," he didn't elaborate and she didn't pry. He appreciated that, "What's your name," he finally asked,

"Livia Baudelaire," Darren's never heard of that name before. He waited in silence. Hoping the arguing in the room before them would hurry up. Livia let out a huff of air, as if exasperated,

"You're the only person I've ever met who hasn't asked me if my name was from those book characters," she seemed happily surprised by it, she shifted in her chair to face him it sounded like,

"What book characters?"

"Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire? _A Series of Unfortunate Events?"_

"Never heard of it," he deadpanned. She let out a squeak of a gasp,

"Oh my God. You've never read them? They're great. There's a lot of books in the series and they're short…I mean not super short, but they're…they're just very good," Darren found that people often got excited when talking about things they loved, for Livia it was clearly books,

"And then they'd ask 'did your family die in a horrible fire too?'" Livia let out a huff, "No, they did not. I live with my dad thank you very much. He's a doctor at the hospital here. It's why we moved," they sat in silence once again. Though Darren noted she did not mention her mother,

"Sorry for going on a rant there," she added a few moments later, "It just annoys me so much. You don't joke about someone's parents dying. People can be so horrible,"

"They definitely can," Darren agreed, unable to help the grim yet wry smile glimmer across his face briefly,

"Well not everyone. But still, if murder were legal…I know who'd be on my hit list," she muttered and Darren choked out a laugh. He never expected someone…anyone to say something like that. Perhaps she even meant it too and Darren didn't know what to feel if she did mean it. Mostly because he didn't know if it was meant for _him_. Some sort of warning or threat...Darren couldn't tell,

"He shows emotion. I've cracked the ice," she said, probably grinning. Darren couldn't help but grin once again, hesitantly and warily, but then remembered those yellow-green eyes and the danger they migth pose and he sobered again,

"I've been meaning to ask," Livia began a few moments later, "What is a Talon?" a shiver ran down his back, Darren didn't think she would remember him yelling that at her before. He didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. He swallowed, considering answering. Many people in Gotham knew Talons existed, as they were exposed to them during the Court's attack on Gotham: the Night of Owls, but their knowledge was very limited on who Talons are and what Talons were. So Darren stayed silent, "I'll find out," she said eventually, "You don't have to tell me, but I will find out. It seems important if they scare you,"

"They _don't_ scare me," Darren snapped, despite himself, "If anything they should fear _me!"_ silence, and Darren huffed out a growl at himself. He shouldn't have said that but she had misinterpreted his outburst a while back and while he does fear the Court…he would always have the courage to fight against them and resist them…at least he hoped. Darren hadn't faced them since the Bats got him out and away from Harbor House. He didn't want Livia to think he was frightened of Talons…of what she possibly was. It would give her and the Court an upper hand and power over him...power Darren couldn't afford to lose for himself,

"Darren?" Tim apparently had been let out of the office finally and Darren hadn't even heard the door open, "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Darren monotoned, "Can we leave?"

"Yeah. Bruce is finishing up in there and we have a suspended Tim to take home," Dick stated, throwing the younger boy a look,

"I'm sorry you got in trouble," Livia said to Tim,

"I'm sorry I got you in trouble too. You shouldn't have gotten caught up in all this,"

"Whatever. I think I did the right thing,"

"Aw. Did Darren make a friend out here?" Dick asked, he could almost hear the smile in his voice and Darren clenched his teeth in annoyance,

"No," he deadpanned and started walking to the door, or where he assumed it was,

"What's with the sunglasses indoors?" Livia asked, her voice not revealing any reaction to what he'd just said,

"He just got his eyes dilated at the eye doctors," Dick said, thinking quickly as he ushered Darren out into the hallway,

"And you're a liar," Livia called to him, making Darren stop and look back over his shoulder at her, despite him not being able to see anything, "People don't just save someone for nothing, just like Gotham buses don't stop for jaywalkers. They do it because they see something in the other person," Darren ignored her and started walking with Dick again. Livia may think what she liked, but what Darren saw in her was not what she thought he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter!! What do you think of this mystery girl? Friend, foe...confusing interlude merely involved for the plot only to get killed off by the end of this story?! Stay tuned to find out!! 
> 
> Also, just a quick thing about the name Livia Baudelaire (to explain the process I sometimes use to pick character names):
> 
> I named her Livia, not for Livia Drusilla, the wife of the Roman Emperor Augustus but really rather because her name means 'life' which is ironic for a Talon-themed story where their lives center around death and they are literally undead assassins. I thought it fit. 
> 
> The last name Baudelaire is NOT from the book series but rather for Charles Baudelaire a French poet who also produced notable work as an essayist, art critic, and pioneering translator. So Livia's family is some percentage French for any of you who are interested(that will come up later on in this story[I keep wanting to type book instead of story, lol]) I don't know if there are any living descendants of the guy, but I found it so cool his last name was Baudelaire and he was a translator for Edgar Allen Poe one of my favorite old-timey authors...so yeah.
> 
> As always PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT!! I love hearing your thoughts and opinions and it honestly makes my day to know that people enjoy this story.


	8. Chapter 8

"C'mon Darren. Saturday morning training," Tim's tired voice called from the hallway. Darren grunted and rolled over on his side, away from the door. He'd managed to get a decent amount of sleep in after Friday night patrol. Weekday patrols were shorter for the younger kids who had school in the morning. Fridays and the weekends, therefore, ran later…but Saturdays were early morning training sessions which were a pain. Alfred got to sleep in while everyone else went to the Cave,

"Darren, you need to get up. Bruce will literally dump ice cold water on you if you don't get up. He's done it before, I can testify to that,"

"I'm blind," Darren growled, hugging his pillow,

"You got your sight back at dinner you idiot," Damian yelled into his room now as well, "Get your ass in motion or I'll spear it with my sword," Darren growled at them, wanting to point out that weapons were not allowed upstairs and out of the cave, but instead stumbled to his feet and hurried to get dressed for training.

Once downstairs in the Batcave and after they warmed up a little bit, they split off into different types of workouts for the time they'd be in training. For Darren, Dick, Tim, and Damian it was weight training,

"I have enhanced strength. Is there really anything I can improve on with that?" Darren asked Dick as he rolled over some round weights for him and Damian. He sat on the tumbling floor, Damian a few feet away looking bored. Tim was doing rope climbs to start, Dick was in charge of setting him and Damian up and both Stephanie and Barbara were sparring with Bruce on the sparring grounds,

"Well, we did see how much you can lift with your enhanced abilities so we're going to add a little extra for you to do muscle-ups on the high bar with," Dick said cheerfully. Darren didn't know how he stayed so chipper in the mornings. After rolling his eyes Darren glanced at the weights Dick had put before him and the ankle weights he strapped onto his ankles,

"Those and the ankle weights? I won't be able to walk over to the bar,"

"Tt," Damian snorted, "That sounds like an excuse," he already had the weights attached to the dip belt he had around his waist. He made his way over to the bar to do his sets. Usually, when Darren trained if he complained or said anything that didn't relate to the training exercise at the moment, he'd get yelled at or ridiculed, perhaps punished if the comment was insulting enough or he goofed off too much. Here it was different and while Darren perhaps wasn't used to it, he definitely liked it way better,

"Well this will add more muscle mass," Dick said, attaching the weights to the belt, "Quit complaining, you won't be able to always rely on your enhanced abilities. This will prepare you for that...you'll do fine,"

"I know I will," Darren said, "it's just not fair I get double the sets that Damian or Tim or you do,"

"That is because of the enhanced abilities you love to bring up so much," Dick stated wryly, "now get to the high bar. There's room for you and Damian. I have to do my rope climbs," Darren rolled his eyes and got to his feet, dragging the weights over to where Damian had already started doing his muscle-ups,

"Tim, no cheating. Don't use your legs!" Darren missed Tim's response as he started his workout, but he figured it wasn't a very pleasant one. After his fifty muscle-ups—Damian only had to do twenty-five, and his weight load wasn't even that much—he did his own workouts from when he had been trained by the Talons, without the weights though. Perhaps he did not like to remember those days or times or really most of his experience there, but their workouts were tough and yielded great results. Besides, Darren liked the challenge. Later he did his rope climbs, fifty of those too, before collapsing on the tumbling floor exhausted,

"We still have sparring," Damian growled, standing over him. He'd already gotten his break because of the fewer sets, "We will not slack on your training to be nonlethal."

So for the next hour, while Tim and Dick sparred in the sparring area next to theirs, he and Damian practiced with the escrima sticks. They were trying to see which weapon would be best suitable to replace the dual blades Darren was so used to wielding. Damian figured the escrima sticks would be best, but they were still going to try other less-lethal weapons before deciding on one type. Personally, Darren didn't want to give up his swords, but at the moment that wasn't up to him. When, not if... _when_ , the Court attacks Darren and he doesn't have his dual blades with him perhaps they'll see their value then. Stephanie, Barbara, and Bruce were doing their workouts now while they did their rounds of fighting,

"Keep your balance Darren. I know you can flip around easily without minding your balance as much but you still need to consider it," Damian snapped, "Especially if you want to keep yourself from accidentally stumbling into a killing stroke," Darren jerked a nod at that and readjusted his footwork. Usually he wasn't so unbalanced, but for some reason constantly reminding himself not to kill made him forget about his foot placement which kept him imbalanced which of course was bad in a fight. It reminded him of Asher, who'd always messed up his balance while fighting. Asher was perhaps Darren's only friend back at the Nest…who he had killed in the labyrinth. Darren's expression and thoughts darkened and he struck with a little more force than necessary. A loud crack echoed through the cave as the escrima stick Darren struck with broke in two,

"Oops," he deadpanned, with no real feeling. Too distracted by the past to care about the present. Damian just narrowed his eyes at him,

"It wasn't a killing move, but too much force can break many bones unintentionally," he stated,

"I know that," Darren muttered rather monotoned,

"Get a new one. We're going again." It continued like this until it was time for the burnout. An end of training workout they all completed. Though most of the time, the more acrobatically inclined members of the group ended up just doing press handstands as their burnout, which included Darren, Dick, and sometimes Barbara if she felt up to it. Darren had to do it with ankle weights in order for it to 'count' though, one of Bruce's more annoying rules concerning Darren's current training. Though in the long scope of Darren's past training, a rather benign addition. Finally, training was over for the day. It had been a great training session if only Darren's heel would stop bothering him. He frowned as the others meandered about the cave. Getting towels to wipe off sweat and long chugs of water, talking about what breakfast Alfred cooked up for them.

Breakfast afterward was always the greatest part of having to wake up so early. It was a feast of all sorts of breakfast foods. Waffles—Stephanie's favorite, and now Darren's favorite as well—pancakes, toast, eggs, various fruits, french toast, home-fries, sausage, and so much more awaited them upstairs. Of course, prepared in the healthiest way possible because they did after all just train for almost three hours.

Darren, instead of joining the others, hobbled over to one of the benches and tried to massage his heel discretely. Despite him being immune to most injuries and illnesses previous damage to his left ankle prevented the Electrum in his system to function properly allowing Sever's Disease to develop. It was not quite a disease as it was a type of bone injury in which the growth plate in the lower back of the heel became inflamed, an injury that was caused by Darren's excessive activity as a young child up to the present. He was still growing and because he has never truly been treated for it properly, the injury flares from time to time, recurring after significant use such as training or after long and intense patrols. The Mirakuru in Darren's system continued to function despite an old break in his ankle, another injury to the same foot, which aided in healing the issue, but not enough that the injury went away completely. Mirakuru did not prevent Darren from feeling pain from the injury either.

Darren massaged his heel as unnoticeably as he could. The attempt to hide the injury was due to the fact that when the injury did flare up, the others actually _wanted_ to treat it, which involved shoving Darren's foot in a bucket full of ice water for twenty minutes and while that may be a fine treatment for any normal child with this injury Darren was a Talon and they did _not_ do well with the cold. He had tried it once, at the insistence of Dick, Alfred, Tim, and Dr. Leslie. To put it kindly, that had not gone well at all. He had panicked once his foot turned numb. The others had tried to keep his foot in the water because it was generally the only way to treat that injury other than stopping whatever intensively active activity Darren did—patrol and training—and he had not taken it well. He hoped if he kept it under wraps no one would notice,

"Darren. Is your heel bothering you?" Dick asked a few minutes later. He had a careful eye on Darren now, who felt like a deer trapped in headlights. Darren remembered how the last time they tried to ice his foot went and he couldn't help but feel panicked at the thought of it happening again. He glanced at the entrance of the Cave. No one was really paying attention at the moment,

"No," he said quickly,

"Darren…" Dick started but Darren was already sprinting towards the stairs and to the exit of the Cave, "Darren! Get back here! We need to treat it!" But Darren didn't stop, not even when he heard Bruce say to Dick down in the Cave below,

"Don't worry. He'll be up on the chandeliers and rafters for a while, but he'll come down eventually." It was a battle of wills then, and Darren wasn't going to lose.

* * *

Darren sprinted upstairs and leapt into the rafters of the house, leaping from one to the other until he was deep in the manor and hidden from the others. It was like a game of cat and mouse for a while, Dick and Barbara hunting for him and trying to convince him to get down. Darren had always been good at hiding. He was quiet and usually quite patient, especially when he was trying to avoid something. William had hated it and his punishments were often worse than they were initially when Darren was quick and stupid enough to run off and hide from him when he was little. Eventually, they got Alfred to get him down,

"Master Darren, if you do not treat your foot your brunch will be tossed,"

"You're bluffing, you know I need that food," he said,

"Your physical condition is as important as your caloric intake and if one goes so does the other,"

"I can make my own food," Darren called down, feeling smug and shifting his position on the rafters,

"Not if you're barred from my kitchen,"

"You couldn't _possibly_ do that," Alfred gave him a fierce stare from below that seemed to say _'oh just watch me,'_

"He's serious Darren. He's done it before," Dick said placatingly, "Just come down, the sooner you get it over with the better," Darren looked down at them from the shadows, his stomach growling at the smell of brunch still wafting through the manor before grudgingly leaping down to the floor before the others, letting out a hiss at the heavy impact on his already throbbing heel,

"Is it really that bad?" Dick asked, walking alongside Darren as he hobbled to the living room where the ice water-filled bucket was already placed,

"No," Darren replied shortly. He felt dread snake up his spine at the sight of the bucket. Apparently, he looked like he was about to bolt again because Dick lightly, but firmly, grabbed his arm and pulled him with him to the couch,

"You've already done this before. You know it won't freeze you completely, we're here…you're not back there…you are fine and this is helping you,"

"There's no real proof of that because it keeps _coming_ back," Darren growled, eyeing the bucket with distaste,

"It's a _chronic_ injury Darren. Just do it, it's only twenty minutes. And I am here," He really didn't like that Dick kept saying that. Of course, he knew Dick was there. Even so, Darren didn't want to do this, he almost couldn't bring himself to do it, but he took a deep breath and shoved his left foot into the ice water. The cold hit him hard and he gritted his teeth against it. The timer had started but Darren knew it would be an eternity before it went off.

Darren sat there, silent despite the tremors that were wracking through his body. His body temperature had probably dropped dangerously low, at least to a Talon, and he was shivering in his long sleeved shirt. Dick had offered to grab him a thicker sweater or a sweatshirt but Darren had jerked his head no, it wouldn't make a difference at this point. Darren bit the inside of his cheek trying to keep his teeth from chattering. He didn't know how long it had been but it felt like ages. In an instance, Darren's heart suddenly stuttered and skipped a beat, he _felt_ it. He stiffened at the sensation, filling with quiet dread. Dick noticed the look of shock on his face and maybe even fear—it is known that when a Talon is put in cold storage or is frozen like a statue out in the cold, their heart stops beating altogether or at least beats too slow for it to register by ear or machine—because Dick leaned closer,

"Darren?" he asked,

"I c-can't do this," Darren warbled, his voice rising in near hysteria. He jerked to his feet and tried to pull his leg out of the bucket…it wouldn't budge,

"Darren sit back down. Take a deep breath and relax,"

"I can't relax, my leg won't move!" Darren yelled, his voice loud and panicked. He tried again to move his left leg but nothing happened, "It's frozen, I'm going to freeze!" He was shaking with shivers and he felt like he was suddenly having trouble breathing,

"Darren it's been ten minutes, you're halfway there,"

"I can't, I can't, I c-c-can't do this!" He was shouting, he didn't mean to be but he was freaking out…if he did freeze…what would happen to him? Where would he go? Would it be like he's asleep? Or in a coma? Would he dream? What would waking up feel like? Would it be like he was _dead?_ If Darren's heart stops or slows…wouldn't he be dead? Wouldn't that mean he was dead?

No, he couldn't do that, not _again_. Darren reached down and grabbed the sides of the bucket. He was knocking it over, he was done…he couldn't go into cold storage, not like this not when he didn't have to...he wouldn't rest in an icy tomb, Darren wouldn't go back to the Court or their ways. Dick apparently had other ideas because he grabbed Darren around the middle and pulled him down onto his lap, wrapping his legs around Darren's own like some Dick-Darren pretzel to keep him from moving,

"What are you doing? _Let me go!"_

"I know you hate this, I know this hurts you and makes you feel uncomfortable and unsafe, but this is the only way to make the pain in your heel go away for a significant amount of time…it's not forever, you only have nine more minutes,"

"I can't…it's cold,"

"I know,"

"I can't feel or move my leg…the rest of me will soon follow if my body temperature drops any lower,"

"I _know_ ," he sounded upset about it too, but clearly not enough to let him go. Darren scrabbled at his cousin's fingers still locked together and keeping him against his chest. He could rip them apart easily, Darren could scratch at them and pull Dick's arms off of him without a second thought. Darren could do so many horrible, gory and violent things to get Dick to let him go, he could hurt him in so many ways easily. The thoughts came to mind like a gory and horrifying slideshow…but Darren didn't do anything, he didn't move. Not just because it was wrong and he didn't actually want to hurt Dick, but because Darren knew his cousin was right, yet that didn't stop Darren from panicking. He was also shivering too much to actually manage a grip onto either of Dick's arms or hands.

Darren had never been put in Cold Storage…he didn't know what that was like or what it entailed and no one ever talked about it at the Nest. It wasn't a good thing, it was like taboo, the ultimate punishment. Darren also didn't move because Dick was _warm_. Darren felt heat radiate through his back even as he still shivered and his teeth chattered while he tried to jerk out of his cousin's grip.

Darren tried to settle, he tried to calm down in Dick's grip but his heart stuttered again and he tried to escape again,

"Please. I can't do this, I can't…please Dick let me go," he probably sounded _pathetic_ , he _hated_ the way his voice sounded in his own ears. Tired, scared, and on the verge of hysteria,

"Six more minutes Darren,"

"I can't move my leg!" Darren yelled, trying to worm his way out of the hug trap Dick had created. It was futile, acrobats and trapeze artists had insane grip strength Darren should know. His chest was heaving and he was on the verge of hyperventilating, "My heart keeps stuttering…it keeps stopping…it's going to _stop_ and—and—,"

"Darren," Dick hissed in his ear, "You're heart is fine, you are _breathing_ , you are _alive_ …yes your foot is numb and you are cold but you are _not_ dying. _Breathe_ ," Darren let out short panicked pants of breath, "Think of something else,"

"L-like what?" his breathing still didn't even and he still tried to wriggle free, but Dick held tight,

"Like how much food you're going to eat after this," Darren let out a strangled chuckle, "And how much fun you're going to have on patrol," Darren may have smiled darkly at that, "Not too much _'fun,'"_ Dick reminded him. It continued like that. Dick murmuring various ideas and questions and stories into his ear as the final minutes drained down, Darren's breathing settling as time wound down and his head slunk back onto Dick's shoulder. Dick released him immediately after the buzzer went off and helped him yank his leg out of the ice bath. He then wrapped his foot up tightly with an ace bandaged and wrapped a heated towel around it courtesy of Alfred while grabbing another blanket and tossing it over his still quaking shoulders,

"I know that sucked," Dick said, "But now we don't have to do it again for a while,"

"I'll still have to do it," Darren growled, glaring at his foot,

"I am sorry you have to do this. I wish there was another way but there really isn't," Dick said, "Not unless you quit doing any training or patrolling, and I know you don't want that," 

"I know," Darren said pulling the blanket tighter around him, "At least you _care_ about treating it," Dick nodded, a frown on his face as he said,

"Of course we care about treating your heel, we care about _you_." Dick then got up and brought out a giant plate of food for Darren to eat in the living room. Darren ate in comfortable silence with Dick next to him on the couch.

* * *

Tim was tapping his pencil against his notebook trying to figure out how to say a certain phrase in Spanish for his assignment that was due on Monday. Usually after Saturday morning training—the bane of his existence, he hated it as much as everyone else did. The only one who liked the training session was Damian the little weirdo—he'd either work on schoolwork or casework. Casework involved compiling notes he'd taken on the cases they took on and investigated over the week, trying to find clues or connections or patterns to work with. He'd then transfer all that into one file on his computer to send to the batcomputer for Bruce to look over later that day, or he'd move it to the bulletin board he had in his room. It doubled as one he used for school and one he used for casework, each side reversible.

The school side is the one usually facing outwards while the casework was against the wall so no one would see. He'd then try and string-link everything together. It was a lot of work, but it made solving certain cases easier. When it was Arkham escapees things were solved so much quicker because they had telltale MOs. Mob bosses, criminals, and other types of killers were usually harder to peg. With the other types of criminals or new criminals that sometimes pop up they had to discover their MOs and backtrack from there or start with the backtracking to discover their MO and therefore deduce what they were going to do next and plan a way to trap them,

"Tim?" Darren's voice called from his open doorway. Tim jerked in his seat at his desk, the pencil clattering from his hand. He hadn't even heard Darren approach and the wood flooring near his room was the creakiest in the whole Manor, it was why he had picked the room. Darren was always like that, silent and watchful, like a cat. He moved soundlessly anywhere he was and often gave people heart attacks by appearing where they don't expect him to be or by talking to them as if they knew he had been there the whole time, which typically wasn't the case. It was probably best he hadn't chosen another bird name for himself, it wouldn't have fit him.

Tim calmed himself and spun in his chair to face Darren who stood in the doorway sheepishly. His left foot wrapped up. Dick, Bruce, and Alfred had finally got him out of the rafters a few hours ago since he'd run off. Tim had heard the commotion and the saga of actually getting Darren to ice his foot. Tim couldn't blame him, having had to do buckets of ice water on various limbs himself, it was not a pleasant experience. And already having a vulnerability with the cold made it worse. He'd heard Darren yelling and panicking at the cold and Dick trying to calm him down with gentle words and distractions. The commotion didn't last as long this time though which was promising,

"Yeah?" he asked,

"Why did you talk to her even though I told you she might be a Talon?" Tim held back a frown. Was Darren really _still_ on this potential Talon thing? Didn't Tim tell him to let it go,

"I saw someone in need, who was lost, on her first day of school. I couldn't ignore that and I didn't know it was _her_ until she turned around,"

"She could be _dangerous_ ,"

"We don't know that for sure. We don't know anything about her," Tim replied, leaning to the side in his chair to reach for the pencil he dropped before righting himself once again,

"I got her name,"

"You did?" Tim asked, interest piqued,

"Livia Baudelaire,"

"Like from that book series?" Tim asked, " _A Series of Unfortunate Events?_ " Darren nodded in confirmation, though Tim guessed he'd never read the series it was probably brought up in the conversation he'd had with her while the rest of them were in the office, "Okay, that sounds sketchily fake,"

"She said it annoyed her that everyone connected her name to the book,"

"Well, Livia isn't that common a name these days. We could probably find her if she's in the system, but that might not help with anything,"

"She said her father works at the hospital,"

"We might be able to find her father, and that would probably prove that she's not a Talon…but not that she isn't associated with the Court in general if what you believe is true that is. I still don't buy it, but you seem to still be concerned,"

"I know…but it's something right?" Darren asked, tilting his head to the side slightly shifting from foot to foot,

"It is something. But I really don't think she's a spy. You're going off of a physical attribute, not any actual evidence," Tim stated, though the slamming locker in the hallway still echoed in his mind...it was odd, but nothing noteworthy. At least not yet. And Tim wouldn't alarm Darren with anymore suspicious activity from Livia until Tim was sure himself it was something to investigate,

"She was there the day I got my tattoo, and she now attends your school…isn't that cause for alarm?" Darren insisted,

"That's just coincidence," Tim replied, "It's not substantial,"

"Fair enough," Darren muttered, apparently ending the conversation. Tim took the cue and turned back to his notebooks. Silence for a few moments then,

"Tim?" Darren asked again, clearly not done talking. Tim grunted for him to continue, "Did you know my sister?" Tim cringed. He remembered her, that's for sure, trying to seduce him in Titans Tower some time ago—for some completely obscure reason—completely naked on his bed. He'd never live that down, Steph had found out from someone who had walked in on them and thought the completely wrong thing, and that had not been a pleasant fight.

Tim understood why Darren was asking him. Darren was curious. he knew nothing about his family and while being curious about those related to you was a good thing, with the family Darren had curiosity _will_ kill the cat,

"I…uh…yeah…I knew her," Tim stammered, shaking those memories out of his head,

"Really?" Darren asked, clearly intrigued,

"Yeah. She was a member of the Teen Titans,"

"What…what is she like?" Tim paused,

"She's…complicated. She doesn't like your father that's for sure, and instead of remaining a hero, she's gone off on her own doing her own thing. What that is I'm not completely sure of, but I don't think she's in Gotham anymore,"

"Oh," Darren said, clearly disappointed, "Well thanks," he said before leaving. Tim tapped his pencil on his desk again, deep in thought before he started sweeping through the mess on his desk looking for a piece of paper he once had that contained Rose Wilson's phone number. Perhaps Grant and Joseph were MIA at the moment, but Rose was somewhere and easier to contact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg so sorry guys. I totally forgot today was Saturday and I got sidetracked preparing for finals next week. Here's the next chapter, hope you liked it! 
> 
> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT!!! :)


	9. Chapter 9

Darren glared down at his wrapped ankle. He was still annoyed that they had to treat it yesterday, he was lucky they didn't suggest doing it again that morning though. Most would do it three times in one day, Darren could barely get through the first of the twenty-minute ice bath for his foot. He'd never be able to do three per day. Darren shifted from glaring at the wrapped foot to glaring at the suit on the bed next to him. There was a fundraiser for the new wing of the hospital tonight, they had discussed it in passing but never whether Darren would be attending. Apparently, they thought he was going to go. A knock on his door sounded,

"Darren?" Dick called,

"What?" Darren nearly snapped, he was in a pissy mood,

"Are you getting ready?"

"No," Dick opened the door, eyebrow raised,

"Why not?" he questioned,

"I don't want to go,"

"We figured," he said dryly, "We all don't particularly don't want to go either,"

"Then why don't we all not go,"

"Because public image is key in keeping a secret identity secret," Dick stated, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms,

"I'm not going," Darren insisted,

"They won't be there," Darren knew exactly who _'they'_ were, "We checked. As of now, an hour before the gala fundraiser officially starts, the Powers will not be attending,"

"I'm not going," Darren said again,

"Darren, it would be good for the public to see you,"

"I'm not going,"

"They'll need to see you eventually. If you want to keep the court date in everyone's mind and you in some of the thoughts of the people of Gotham, you need to be seen in public," Dick tried again,

"I'm not going,"

"The Court is at bay only because there is attention on you. That won't last, the court date is months away still. But if you come out for the fundraiser it will spark the memory of it happening and keep people talking about it _and_ keep the Court away from you," Darren glowered, he knew Dick was right but still…,

"I'm not going,"

"Just a few hours. It's a school night anyway so we aren't going to stay for long as it is. In and out…there's dessert," Darren's glower darkened but he stood and grabbed the suit and marched into the bathroom,

"That's the spirit!" Dick called after him. Darren changed quickly and angrily in the bathroom. He hated these stupid things. So many people all in one area, a sensory overload for anyone with sensitive senses and an overt case of situational awareness for everything around them. Not to mention the smothering feeling of eyes on you at all times. It was an assassin's nightmare and blessing. It made them feel like shit but made a kill especially easy…though that worked both ways. For or against the assassin. While Darren wasn't out for a target, it was certain there may be one on him for that night. Even so…Dick did have a point. In order to remain in the spotlight, he had to actually be _in_ the spotlight from time to time.

Darren jerked the fancy shoes on before staring at the last article of clothing with a groan. He picked up the tie and stared at it cluelessly before taking a deep breath and walking out into the room,

"Uh…Dick could you help—,"

"—of course!" Dick said cheerily a smile on his face. He walked over and slide the tie around Darren's neck. As Dick tied the tie, Darren shifted from foot to foot slightly, and when it came to tightening the thing he grimaced, remembering the noose-like tightness Shepard had always done it with but that never came. Dick tightened it gradually and flipped the collar down around it, "There you go. I'll teach you how to do it next time,"

"Really?" Darren asked slightly surprised, no one had offered to teach him before,

"Yeah. It's not that complicated, though I still hate the thing. Always feels like it's choking me, even if I loosen it a bit. C'mon. Let's go down to the others," Darren didn't move to follow, instead, he swallowed with slight difficulty, uncertain of the emotion that roiled in his gut and the unease that ran rampant across his mind,

"You're sure they aren't coming?" Dick stopped at the door and looked back at him, right in the eyes,

"I'm sure. They won't come. I'm sure they're spoiling Derek with his new little cast for his hand," he stated with a smirk and a twinkle in his eye. Darren smiled slightly—though perhaps it was more of a grimace—before taking a deep breath and followed Dick out the door.

* * *

"Gah!" Darren growled under his breath as he stumbled into the building where the fundraiser was being held, rendered virtually blind by the flashes from the photographers standing outside the entrance,

"Please tell me you're not blind again," Tim stated, somewhere off to his left,

"No, just stupid bright flashes," he hissed, rubbing his eyes and trying to dissipate the fuzziness of his vision,

"Why does it hurt for you if you can't feel pain?" Damian asked, walking in, Dick and Bruce behind him,

"I don't know," Darren replied shrugging, relaxing as his vision returned to normal. The voices of all the other guests were thunderous in his ears, the music overpowering and it felt like there were thousands instead of just around a hundred people in the large venue. Darren instantly felt like he was being smothered. Pinpricks ran up and down his spine as hundreds of invisible eyes turned to him...paranoia blazing through his thoughts barely overshadowing the very real and very deep concern that Shepard or Lydia would suddenly appear viciously from within the masses,

"Ears and eyes are more sensitive than other parts of the body," Tim pointed, "Maybe that has something to do with it?"

"Let's not discuss this right here boys," Bruce cautioned, "Go on in, we're blocking the entrance," Bruce left them to speak to the host of the event while Dick wandered off to find Babs, who was his plus one but opted to arrive alone without the hoard of paparazzi waiting for her at the entrance. Tim had already disappeared, where or to do what Darren did not know and Damian was Damian and went to sulk in the corner somewhere.

Darren didn't exactly mind, he was confident that no one would try anything even if he was alone. There were many Owl members within the elite of Gotham, but they would never do the dirty work themselves so Darren wandered off through the crowd in search of the dessert table. The only reason he was somewhat excited to be at the event.

He found the dessert table a few ways away in front of the side entrance to the location. Stacked with various cookies, brownies, pastries, a chocolate fountain, and cakes. His mouth watered and though they did have a small dinner before heading out his stomach rumbled. Darren didn't even bother taking a plate, he just started shoving food into his mouth. After downing five brownies and two cookies, he eyed the pastries suspiciously. He had never seen those kind before and he experimentally nibbled on the end of one before shoving the rest of it in his mouth and picking up three more afterward,

"Howdy stranger," a voice said on his right. Darren jumped slightly at the familiar voice, nearly dropping his treats. The sounds of everyone else were interfering with his situational awareness…though that might've also been the enormous amount of food in front of him that was distracting him from actually paying attention. He swallowed his food with difficulty and glanced at none other than 'Livia Baudelaire,'

"Uh…hi," she was slightly under-dressed for an event like a fundraiser gala but her green dress made her eyes appear luminous and bright. Her hair was braided and wrapped around her head like a crown with a few pieces—the red stripe included—hanging out in front, "What are you doing here?" he blurted out. She raised an eyebrow,

"Um…it's a fundraiser for the hospital…and my dad _works_ at the hospital,"

"Oh…where is he at?" She glanced around the room before shrugging,

"Eh, somewhere around here. I was bored so I went out looking for the dessert table and saw you stuffing your face so I thought I'd say hi," _a likely story_ Darren thought to himself,

"Great. You said hi," Darren said before shoving another pastry in his mouth, perhaps it was rude to say but the fact that she was here sent alarm bells ringing through his head. A part of him wanted to get more information out of her another just wanted to get the others and convince them to leave. His eyes scanned the room obscurely, searching for anything suspicious. Livia rolled her eyes before picking up a sugar cookie,

"Do those pastries have strawberries in them?"

"No…why?" he mumbled around a mouthful of food,

"I'm allergic to them," she said, "Makes me sick to the stomach," Darren frowned at that, Talons weren't usually allergic to things. Some Talons-to-be had them before they were turned but once they were changed the allergy disappeared due to the Electrum. But it could also be a lie, a lie to divert Darren's suspicions,

"It's not that bad really. Sometimes I eat them anyway just because they're my favorite fruit. It may seem crazy but it's worth it to me," she said with a laugh, misreading his frown. Her phone beeped, she glanced down at it and tapped out a response to whatever was sent to her. Perhaps he should be more attentive to his supposed spy, but his stomach was gnawing on his backbone so he ate a few more chocolates and pastries—those were really good—as she texted on her phone,

"Sorry about that. It's my brother, he's complaining about the sitter," she stated as she slid the phone into a hidden pocket within her dress,

"You have a brother?" Darren asked,

"Yeah," silence spread between them and Darren reached for another pastry, "I did some research on you," Darren nearly choked on his treat,

"That sounds so terribly stalkerish…I'm sorry, but I'm new here and I don't know anyone and I was curious…," her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Darren didn't say anything, he didn't exactly know what to say. He didn't even know there was anything about him on the internet—other than the current pending custody case,

"I'm sorry about your mom," that was unexpected and his heart constricted at the mention of her. He hadn't thought about it recently…but the day was coming up soon and he didn't know what to do for it or on it or about it,

"I…ah…tha—it was a while ago," he said, stuttering over his words much to his annoyance. He knew Gotham knew about the death of his mother, he hadn't considered news articles on it or even an obituary...who had written his mother's? Was there even one for her death, or was it all just article after article about it instead? Darren didn't know and he didn't think he'd want to find out,

"That doesn't make it any less painful," Livia said, her eyes softening and her expression turning somber,

"You speak as if you understand it," he said, his words sounded harsh in his ears. Livia's eyes narrowed before she let out a sigh,

"I guess everyone who has ever met you has said that…but as a matter of fact I _do_ understand it,"

"Oh really?" He didn't mean to sound disbelieving, but he couldn't help it. If anyone in her shoes had gone through what he had they'd snap in two. Of course he shouldn't judge by just a few facts about one person but he felt that this was planned. Rehearsed. Set up to get a reaction out of him. She gave him a tight smile,

"My mother died when I was three," there was enough pain in her voice for Darren to feel a little bad, but not enough for him to feel it fully. Lies were easy enough to weave. It was the Court's specialty, and those who could appear in public were all trained in it well,

"I'm sorry," Darren said, he meant it to, "What happened?"

"Plane crash,"

"That's terrible," he might have put that much too bluntly, but couldn't really manage any other tone of voice at the moment,

"I was three…so I don't really remember anything," he knew she didn't just mean the crash—it was clear she hadn't been on the plane when it happened. She meant the memories of her mother. Darren thought of his own fuzzy memories of his mom and wondered if it was better to have a blurry few or none at all in his situation. He wondered which was more painful. Darren gritted his teeth and pushed those thoughts away,

"How old is your brother?" Darren asked, if Livia's mother died when she was three her brother couldn't be that much younger than her, he wouldn't need a sitter,

"He's nine, tomorrow's a school day so he couldn't come," That didn't make sense. Her brother would have been born when she was six to be that age, three years after the plane crash—if his math was correct,

"Oh, so your father remarried?" Livia frowned darkly and jerked her head away to stare angrily at the floor,

"No. He did not," she said shortly. Darren didn't push, though he did mutter an apology. Silence bled between them as they stood awkwardly. Darren shifted from foot to foot while Livia swayed to the tune of the current song playing in the distance, twirling from side to side, letting the material swirl around her with a small smile on her face,

"You look very pretty," Darren found himself saying. Livia flushed a surprised smile on her face. Darren flushed _angrily_ at himself. Why had he _said_ that? It was a nice thing to say for sure, but to a possible spy for the Court? Someone who could potentially kill him and his family? Darren shook his head slightly and shoved another pastry in his mouth. Maybe that would keep his mouth shut for him,

"Thank you. I had to beg my dad to be able to come, I wanted to wear my new dress finally," she said, "You clean up well yourself," Darren didn't remember what he wore when he went to Gotham Academy but he figured he didn't look his best when he shoved her out of the way of the speeding bus. Darren opened his mouth to respond but froze. His face going slack jawed and Darren was sure his face drained of all color,

"Darren? What is it?—Wha—wait what are you—," she didn't finish her sentence or get an answer as Darren grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her under the nearest cloth-covered table with him, "What is this about?" Livia hissed at him, rubbing her wrist where he had grabbed her,

"He said they wouldn't be here. He _promised_ , he assured me they wouldn't be _here!"_ Darren muttered to himself, unable to focus on her questions, wringing his hands. The _Powers_ were there, the _Powers_ had come despite Dick specifically saying they weren't going to come. Did Dick know? Had Dick _lied_ to him? Darren's thoughts were swirling around his head, faster and faster until he wasn't sure whether his head would explode or he'd throw up...the panic becoming all too much,

"Darren. Darren? _Darren!"_ Livia finally hissed, griping his hand—which was splayed on the tile of the floor beneath them—Darren flinched from her grasp without meaning to. He tried to play if off like he was removing it to pull up the table cloth and peek under but when he looked back he met concerned yet serious yellow-green eyes and knew he had not deceived her,

"What?" he hissed finally, jerking around and fidgeting out of anxiety and panic,

"I don't know who they are, and I don't think you will tell me what is going on but whomever they are clearly…cause you distress," Darren tried not to glare but he probably failed. What right did she have trying to give him advice, "I say find your brothers and leave,"

"I can't just leave," he said,

"Yes, you can. You're panicking,"

"No, I'm not,"

"Yes you are and it's okay," Darren blinked at her, "Find who you came with and tell them you need to leave. I'm sure it will be okay. It's not your job to make people happy by being here,"

"But I _need_ to be here…I, I need…there's…I have an _image_ to upkeep," Darren finally managed to get out, unable to explain the full extent of the need for him to be seen in public. Not without endangering himself,

"And you were here for an hour or so, people saw you…those paparazzi outside probably saw you Mr. billionaire, so whatever you needed them to see they saw. Just leave. It's okay,"

"Yeah…yeah…it's okay. I—I need to leave," Darren couldn't stay, he just couldn't...,

"I'm going to get out from under here…wait a minute before going off to find the others. Have a good rest of your night Darren," with that Livia backed out from under the table, "Don't mind me! I lost an earring…it rolled under the table," she said to some onlookers. Darren waited, silently gnawing on the skin around in thumb in worry. Should he go out there…what if he bumped into them. He wasn't truly afraid of them…he just didn't expect to see them and while he stopped fearing them a while ago…seeing them so suddenly just brought up feelings of helplessness and fear he had when he was much younger. Perhaps talking about the past pulled those feelings to the forefront of his mind…Darren didn't know.

Finally, Darren took a deep breath and snuck out and back into the crowds. He didn't know where any of the others were. He couldn't pick out distinct voices or heartbeats, it was a sensory overload, just like he feared it would be. Perhaps Dick had gone to the bathroom. Darren wandered over to the backrooms. There was a lounge area that was darkened, light streaming in from the hallway beyond an archway showing where the bathrooms were for guests. Darren beelined for the lit hallway but froze at the sound of footsteps behind him,

"Hello _boy_ ," a familiar voice sneered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am again SO SORRY, I completely forgot Saturday was Saturday. In my defense, it was still finals week, so I was a little foggy-brained from all that. I swear I am usually more consistent than I am currently. Either way, I really hope you enjoyed this week's chapter. I had it all ready to go but then FIREFOX had to completely shut down on me and close all my tabs and have them be unretrievable through my history. I had to redo all my editing. Hopefully, it was still up to standard!
> 
> As you can see, things are starting to happen. And I'm really excited for what's to come with the rest of this story. As always PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT. I honestly love all the comments, they make my day and I just love hearing all your thoughts, ideas, questions, etc. So keep 'em coming!


	10. Chapter 10

Chills swept down Darren's spine as he turned to face Shepard Powers, the man's face a mask of anger and contempt. His eyes a bloodshot mess and his nose a ruddy red color. He was drunk and Darren suddenly felt very young and very anxious once again as the man started towards him. Darren backed up, he knew he should stand his ground…he could have…but he eyed the entrance to the main room. So many people, so many eyes. Darren deeply wanted to indulge in the violent ideas that filled his thoughts at seeing this evil, depraved man, but he also couldn't do that, not now...not when his place with the Bats was so precarious, and especially not when they were Darren's only source of protection. There were too many people as witnesses, too many to hear what Darren would do if he really, truly, wanted to. It may be wrong but still, Darren wanted so desperately to see this man suffer as he had. Even so, Darren didn't try to attack Shepard, he couldn't without drawing unwanted attention to himself or without damaging everything he'd built since escaping the Court and the Powers.

So Darren continued backing up until he bumped into the wall right next to the archway leading further into the event hall. His thoughts and hesitation cost him as Shepard lunged forward and grabbed Darren by the throat, hoisting him up against the wall. While Shepard was not a Talon, nor was he trained like one, he was still a strong man and Darren was still very light for his age,

"Look at you," Shepard almost crooned, "So weak, so pathetic. I don't see why the Court even bothered with you," Darren clawed at Shepard's hands. Panicked desperation eating away at his very being, Darren hated the feeling...he hated the deep-rooted anguish, but it wasn't something he could help. Not after all this time. Either Darren wasn't trying as hard as he thought he was or Shepard was too drunk to notice the scratches on his hands and wrists,

"L-let m-me—," Darren wheezed,

 _"—go?_ You want me to let you go? No. I won't. You see, you've been a problem since day one, and I'd managed to get a handle on you but then you grew up and gained a mind of your own despite the Court's every attempt to pull you to their side, to their view of things. And then you _ran_ away like a sniveling _idiot_. Everything put aside and worked up for you, _destroyed_ …and now the Court thinks it is _our_ fault…when it is in fact _yours!"_ Spittle spattered Darren's face and he clenched his teeth, trying in vain not to attack Shepard like his every instinct drove him to. If Darren did let himself go, he was sure he'd kill the man, "You are a problem, and you need to be _fixed,"_ those words echoed in Darren's ears, resonating with him. They shut him down, they stopped every effort he had at fighting as a normal person would to get free. Darren heard those words before, over and over...an internalized mechanism that penetrated beyond the numbness Darren so often felt invoking the one thing Darren could not afford to feel in the presence of Shepard: _fear_. Those words, uttered so maliciously, caused Darren to freeze. The look on his face made Shepard laugh,

"Oh…you _want_ to fight me. Maybe _kill_ me even, but you won't. You _can't._ I can see it in your eyes, your face…you're scared of me…even still, even after all this time you can't shake your fear of me,"

"I-it won't matter. I can't feel pain," Darren growled, gripping at Shepard's hand around his throat once more, though his voice sounded measly...defeated...Darren hated that almost as much as he hated Shepard,

"It _will_ matter to me, it will make me feel better and it will be satisfying to see you balk in fear even with your _godlike_ abilities," Shepard knew Darren wouldn't cry out, he wouldn't make a sound because he was used to being hit. Training and sparring, a constant lifestyle surrounding basically only that made Darren that way. And being a Talon ensured no pain to break through all that conditioning. Shepard brought back his fist and though Darren knew it wouldn't do any damage, he knew he wouldn't feel it, the actual blow still shocked him. Another landed home and another, this time the rings Shepard wore cutting open his cheek. Another busted open his lip and Darren tasted blood in his mouth but he still felt nothing. Shepard would continue, keep doing it too, because he knew no matter what he did the damage wouldn't last and Shepard didn't care either way,

"Let him go!" a voice hissed from behind them,

 _"Now,"_ another added. Darren glanced over Shepard's shoulder and saw Dick and Tim standing behind them, livid anger plastered on their faces,

"We're just having a conversation," Shepard said, not bothering to look back at them,

"Tt, most conversations don't draw blood," Damian now appeared as well and Darren ducked his head—as much as he could—shoulders slumping in shame. They'd seen him just take those hits like a coward. Like a fearful child. He must seem so _pathetic_ to them,

"Let him go now, or I'm sure our lawyer will receive a very interesting call," Dick growled, his cobalt blue eyes were murderous,

"You and what evidence?" Shepard said, a sinister smirk on his face and a coldness in his eyes that was all too familiar to Darren. It was a face of a man who knew he won, who knew he couldn't be beaten no matter what forces were involved, "He will heal. It will be like I never touched him," it was true, Darren could feel his skin knitting itself back together, leaving no trace of the cuts,

"You forget that this is a privately owned location with various security cameras inside and outside of the building…cameras that are easily accessed no matter what or who tampers with them— _especially_ by us," Tim retorted, "So. Let. Him. _Go,"_

"Or it won't just be his blood that's spilled tonight," Damian sneered, his hands clenched into fists by his sides. Shepard seemed to consider the offer, toying with the idea of releasing Darren. Predator assessing his prey…for the first time in a long while, the former was not Darren not at all,

 _"Powers,"_ Dick snapped, stepping forward, looking like he was about to attack the other man himself, the anger on Dick's face was pure and promised death. It was astonishing to Darren, he'd never seen such a look on his cousin's face or from anyone on his behalf before. With a low, long sigh Shepard set Darren to his feet, though he didn't let go of the front of his shirt. Instead, Shepard brought his lips to Darren's ear and hissed,

"Remember _boy_ , you're a problem that needs to be fixed… _always,"_ before shoving him towards the others. Darren, in shock, surprised and lost in embarrassment, stumbled gracelessly over his feet and practically fell into Dick who tucked him in close under his arm as he led Darren away from the room and away from Shepard,

"Whatever he said, whatever he did…don't listen to him. You are valued, you are loved and you aren't worthless," Dick said in his ear. Darren could hear Tim and Damian snapping at Shepard,

"Bruce will be informed of this. You will not get away with what happened tonight," Tim was saying. Whatever else was said was drowned out by the sea of voices as they reached the main room. Darren kept his head down, he didn't want to see who saw him being led out. He didn't want to see the smirks and sneers of the Powers or the possibly 'worried' face of Livia or other socialites. His breathing was uneven and he shook all over,

"It's okay," Dick was saying, "Alfred's out front waiting for us. We're getting you away from here,"

"N-n-o photos," Darren managed to get out,

"They're gone. They'll be back at the end of the event but there's no one out there now," somehow Dick got him out the doors without many people noticing and into the car. He curled up on the seat like a ball. His feet up on the seat with his arms wrapped around his knees, he clutched the plastic door handle with his hands, his face expressionless. Darren didn't want to think about what just happened, he just wanted it to go away…he didn't want to think of it ever happening again. _Just never again._

* * *

The silence in the car was deafening. It was torturous. It was smothering. Dick kept sneaking glances at Darren, who hadn't moved a centimeter since entering the car. He hadn't moved a muscle, Darren was as still and as stiff as a statue. He stared vacantly at the seat in front of him, unaware—purposely or not it was unclear—of everything around him. Dick wondered if Darren was even in there, or if he was lost in his head somewhere… _somewhen._

Dick could feel how Darren trembled as he guided him out of the venue. He could see the fear in Darren's eyes and all the color leave his face at the last thing that vile man whispered in his ear. Darren didn't deserve this, he didn't need this in his life right now. Dick wanted more than anything at this moment to destroy Shepard in every way, shape, and form. Shepard will never take custody of Darren, he'd have to rip him out of Dick's cold lifeless hands. Dick didn't even care if he had to abduct Darren and go on the run for the rest of his life, it would be worth it to never see the utter fear in his cousin's eyes again.

Shame burned through him. How could he look Darren in the eye again after being wrong about the Powers not coming? Dick thought it had been decided they weren't attending. Their names had not been on the guest list and that was why Dick specifically insisted Darren come to this event, as it may be one of the only chances they had where the Powers wouldn't infect the evening. What had _happened_ , what _changed_ their minds?

"Darren," Dick said into the silence, he didn't raise his head or look his way, "I didn't know they would be there. They weren't supposed to be there I _promise_ I didn't know," no response. Dick let out a long low sigh, trying to ease the feeling of guilt in his chest. He kept an eye on Darren, he still sat in statuesque stillness, it didn't appear that he was even breathing. The unnatural stillness Darren exhibited caused by the Electrum because he was Talon.

Darren's gaze was still empty and the plastic panic bar on the door was in his white-knuckled grip. Darren always sat like that in any of the cars he rode in. Always sat behind the driver with one or both hands holding onto the plastic panic bar on the door. Dick had never thought anything of it, but perhaps it was because a car killed his mother. And that made Dick wonder if he had been there to see it happen—seeing as it was the Court's intention for them both to be in the car when it crashed.

The thought worried Dick, but he pushed it off to the side and addressed the one thought that had circled his mind since walking into the backroom to see Darren pinned by the throat, blood trickling down his face and such a deep level of fear in his eyes. Dick had never seen Darren look like that or express such a deep level of emotion like that…perhaps it had just been a bad night for him and Shepard had made everything worse…but it wasn't something Dick had seen before at least not to that extent. It had shaken him,

"Darren," Dick tried again to get his cousin's attention…perhaps he should let it alone, but he needed some response. He needed to crack the protective shell surrounding Darren or he feared it would never open again, "has this happened before?" a puff of air hissed through Darren's teeth. A sign that he was listening. Dick swallowed before asking the question that had burned through his mind at seeing the clear gleaming glee in Shepard's eyes as he tormented his little cousin,

"Darren…how did you break your ankle," blue-grey eyes slid to meet his blue ones. Pain and shame reflecting within them. He clenched them closed, his back shuddering visibly in the light from the passing street lamps,

"I fell," his voice was no more than a whisper, "down the stairs," fire seared through Dick's blood, his anger peaked so high he almost couldn't contain it. Darren wasn't clumsy. Darren was not one to trip and fall, he usually caught himself or someone was there to catch him—at least _now_ there was someone there to catch him,

"You were _pushed,"_ Dick hissed, "maybe even _thrown,"_

"Don't be mad at me," a small whispered plea,

"I am _not_ mad at you. _Never. Never_ would I be mad at you about this…but he will _never_ touch you again… _never_. I won't let that happen. I swear, I promise on my life—,"

"—don't promise on that," Darren quickly interrupted, his voice cracking,

"I _do_. I swear on my _life_ that you will _never_ live with that man again,"

"He didn't do anything like that afterward," Darren croaked out after a moment or two of silence, "William was angry with him for it…it kept me from my training,"

"That doesn't change the fact that he deliberately hurt you,"

"It was just a few punches…mostly when he was drunk…maybe a few smacks and shoving around. It was never as bad as the ankle," Dick scooted closer to Darren, who finally turned to look at him in the eye,

 _"Don't. Normalize. This."_ he emphasized each word, hoping he was making it clear to Darren that what Shepard did was not normal, it was _not_ okay by any degree or level, "What he did to you was not okay, not by any standard, before or after he pushed you down those stairs. None of it was okay. None of it was something someone— _anyone_ —older or younger but especially your age and with what you had been through beforehand should have dealt with. And I am so, so, _so sorry_ you had to go through that alone, with no one to help you and no one who wanted to help you," and then he risked it all and wrapped an arm around Darren's shoulders…he stiffened and squirmed and tried to move away but was trapped by the door,

"Don't…please… _please_ don't touch me right now," Darren nearly whimpered, but Dick didn't let up he instead pulled him closer, nestling Darren's head to his shoulder running a gentle hand through his hair in an attempt to calm him,

"But you need this," he understood Darren's reluctance to accept physical contact, and maybe this wasn't completely helpful but it was _something_ , it showed affection and caring and an understanding that he had suffered and needed support, "You need to know that you are safe: _I'm here for you and you are safe,"_ he murmured that over and over again as Darren squirmed and tried to struggle out of his hold but eventually, slowly, he relaxed into the embrace and he could feel Darren's shoulders shuddering as the wetness of tears sprinkled his dress shirt—he'd taken off his jacket upon entering the car. And he held him all the way through the rest of the car ride as he slowly fell to sleep lulled by the silence and the swaying of the car.

Dick then carried Darren to his room and put him to bed, pulling off his shoes, jacket, and belt—which would be extremely uncomfortable to sleep with—before tucking the sheets up to his chin. He didn't want Darren to wake up alone, but he felt Darren would need space and time to accept that he knew that what happened tonight has happened before, to a terrifying degree.

Perhaps Darren will never fully talk about his past with the Powers, especially now, but maybe the knowledge that they, the Bats, were there for him, that they would stand by him no matter what will ease the burden just a bit, just enough for him to let go of the past and be somewhat, somehow a little bit freer from that part of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter, even if it did peek into a darker side of Darren's past. I never really know for sure when I should put up a 'trigger' warning at the beginning of a chapter but the tags are there on this website...so you have an idea of what to expect. I just sometimes put them in to ease my own mind. The issue in creating a story that deals with real-life issues, even if in a fictional setting, is that you run the risk of hurting people who read the story. And that is never my intention. 
> 
> This is a very serious issue in real life and I did not put this in here for any other reason, except perhaps for the plot of the story than to exemplify its seriousness and to hopefully ensnare the mental impacts physical abuse can have on a child even when they grow up as well as to show that it really helps to have someone there who understands, who will be there no matter what truth comes to light. Nothing diminishes your worth to those who truly matter and truly care about you. I hope I did some justice in doing this and that I didn't offend anyone.
> 
> That being said, I also wrote this when I was a bit younger and less wise and without a minor in psychology...so I don't think it was necessarily a good move for Dick to try and hug Darren at that moment. I think I put that in to kind of show that despite the discomfort and despite the pain and fear Darren was still experiencing, it was something he didn't realize he needed until Dick wrapped his arms around him. Some degree of comfort was needed. I personally don't know how I feel about that moment but I also didn't know how to take that part out and keep the flow of the chapter, so I left that in.
> 
> Overall, I hope you readers are well and had a lovely Christmas, or a lovely random Thursday and Friday if you do not celebrate the holiday, despite these difficult plaguey times. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT, I do really love to hear your thoughts and questions. It truly makes my day.


	11. Chapter 11

Darren's insomnia had gotten to the level where _Bruce_ , without Dick's insistence, had called Dr. Leslie to figure out a way to help him sleep. Regular insomnia medication wouldn't help, not with his metabolism but Bruce felt that Dr. Leslie could come up with some type of concoction to actually help him sleep, though that would take time. It didn't help that Powers had attacked him at the gala and now nightmares about the past resurfaced, haunting Darren along with the rest of the dreams that kept him waking at various hours of the night. Adding to everything else, Darren already had difficulty falling to sleep in the first place. He shouldn't be having these nightmares. Darren thought he made peace with the attacks from Shepard long ago, but perhaps it was getting somewhat out of hand and he was not free from his childhood fear like he thought he was. Perhaps the fear of William overshadowed the issues he faced with the Powers. Darren didn't know.

Or maybe Darren was actually upset that everyone else now knew he had been Shepard's personal punching bag for nearly ten years and that Shepard was the cause of Darren's broken ankle. He _hoped_ they weren't upset that he didn't try to fight back or defend himself, Darren hoped they knew he couldn't have because if he even tried _he_ would get punished by the Grandmaster for it. Perhaps it was stupid to be upset that everyone knew, but he had strived for a long while on the fact that he didn't fear Shepard anymore—how _wrong_ he was—and on the fact that only he and Shepard knew about what had happened in the past.

Darren's schoolwork was suffering because of it all and as Bruce said he would get benched if his grades dropped. That hasn't happened yet, but if everything continued on the course it was, Darren would be in trouble, and that couldn't happen. Darren couldn't threaten the relative peace he had with the Bats, their protection was as vital as Darren's need for them. But insomnia _did_ provide more time to do said schoolwork. Crappy schoolwork, but schoolwork nonetheless.

Unfortunately, Dick found out he was doing schoolwork instead of trying to sleep and now Alfred would take his school stuff and lock it away in his room once patrol rolled around. Alfred said he'd stop once Darren sustained a somewhat normal sleeping schedule. Of course, Darren could pick the lock and attempt to get the books and binders but he knew that Alfred would just hide them elsewhere…so they remained in the old man's room. Now Darren just settled in his bed and stared at the ceiling for hours a night, perplexed by the efforts of everyone to make Darren sleep.

They had also barred him from the Cave at night after patrol because they knew Darren would sometimes sneak down there to train when he couldn't sleep. Bruce even changed the codes from the classic time of his parents' death which was big coming from Bruce, and the others wouldn't tell him what the new ones were. Bruce said he'd change it back once Darren's sleeping health improved. So Darren was trapped and essentially cornered into sleeping and while it was kind that they cared so much, Darren wasn't appreciating their efforts nor did he understand those efforts. Why did they care? The attention was strange, Darren was used to hiding from those with more authority over him and his life...but this wasn't commanding...this was caring. It was uncanny and Darren didn't know how to react.

Now, on Wednesday night patrol probably the last Darren would be on if he got another bad grade on his latest test, Darren was in a pretty pissy mood,

"Nothing?" he demanded as he and Tim leapt from rooftop to rooftop. They'd ditched their bikes a block and half ago,

"Nothing," Tim huffed as they landed and continued their running. Darren slowed his pace a bit so Tim wouldn't over-exert himself. He often forgot that he was much faster than the others and they weren't ones to complain about that until they were too tired to do anything about it,

"No Baudelaries in the hospital staff records? Any of them?"

"None,"

"What does this mean?" Darren asked, leaping to the next building, Tim half a step behind him,

"I don't know," Tim stated, "But it means something is off about them that's for sure,"

"I _knew_ it,"

"Not….necessarily…something Court related…" Tim huffed, "There could be something outside our understanding that's going on…they could be under witness protection and therefore she used a fake name,"

"Or there is no such thing as Livia Baudelaire," Darren growled, sprinting forward again. He thought back to the gala, just before the Powers arrived, she had texted someone who she claimed was her brother but he never actually saw the text…it could have been to the Powers for all he knew. To let them know he was at the event. His attempt at providing someone privacy backfired severely if that were the case. He voiced this idea to Tim, who frowned at the news,

"You never mentioned…you talked to her there,"

"I didn't think it was relevant," Darren muttered, as they leapt again to the next building over…perhaps they should have taken the bikes,

"There's too much we don't know…we can't fully peg her as allied with the Court. Did you find anything else out?"

"Her mother died when she was three…but she has a nine-year-old brother yet her father never remarried,"

"Odd…" Tim muttered, "Could be adopted or a kid by someone who's out of the picture though. Commercial plane or private plane?"

"What?…oh…I don't know…didn't ask,"

"I'll look into it," Tim replied, he changed course and ran to the left and off to the next building,

"Where are you going? Our quadrant is over to the east tonight," Darren growled at Tim as he followed the other boy across the rooftops. Darren was paired with Tim a lot for patrol as of late, Dick had been off helping some of his friends with various other baddies in other cities for the past few nights. Tim was still suspended, he'd go back on Monday and while it wasn't good to get suspended from school, Darren didn't get why sending someone home and keeping them from coming to school was a bad thing the kid got to sleep in and do whatever they wanted. Dick said it was because they still had to do school work and hand it in on time, which did suck but for Tim that was nothing,

"Don't worry about it," Tim said,

"We'll get in trouble,"

"Don't worry," he said again, leaping across an alleyway to the next rooftop. Darren followed, frowning as he flipped over the gap and continued running after his friend, concern growing,

"You're acting weird,"

"You'll thank me later,"

" _Really_ weird. Are you okay?" Darren was surprised by the sudden change of mood in Tim. Suspicion settling over his shoulders, but of what Darren was unsure,

"I'm fine, trust me…you do, don't you...trust me that is?" Tim asked, stopping in his running. He panted slightly, his breath dancing in the wind,

"Yeah. I do," Darren said, it was the truth…a startling truth but fact nonetheless...though it didn't change the fact that this was weird behavior for Tim,

"Turn off your comm device and give me the GPS device in your belt," Tim said,

 _"What?"_ Darren exclaimed, "Why!"

"Just do it so Bruce won't get all freaked,"

"Red…" Darren started but Tim gave him a look and Darren sighed, doing what he asked,

"Okay, great. Have fun," Tim said, though he didn't seem to be addressing Darren, someone else it seemed…someone behind him. Darren whirled around, for some reason expecting to see a hoard to Talons waiting to tote him off the Nest but instead found a girl with white-blonde hair, woven tightly into a braid with a black and orange lined jumpsuit…a familiar orange and black jumpsuit…standing behind him. She smiled slightly at him…somewhat unsure, piercing grey-blue eyes exactly like his with an eyepatch covering one of them. Darren whipped back around to asked Tim what the hell was going on, but he wasn't there. He had disappeared. Darren faced the young woman again and met her gaze,

"Rose?" he asked, his voice strangely loud in the silence of the night,

"Hello little brother," Rose Wilson said, a smile curling widely across her face.

* * *

They kind of stared at each other for a moment or two. Unsure of what to say or do. Do they hug first? Do they talk first? Does he talk first? Does she talk first? Darren reached up and deactivated the defenses on his mask and peeled it from his face, he wanted this conversation to be between Darren Crowne and Rose Wilson, not Renegade and Ravager. They didn't hug…they didn't know one another well enough for that, though Darren will admit the desire was there,

"So you did know that I existed?" he said finally across the space between them. Rose took a step forward, a frown on her face now,

"Yeah…I did. Some time ago I got a call from Grant. I almost didn't pick it up…he and I, we're…well we're not that close. Neither are Joseph and me actually…but, yes. He called. I answered, and he told me about you. About where you were and who you were with. Grant said that they were all going to get you out…I see that failed,"

"Yeah. I'm living with the Bats for now. The Court is still after me…they don't want me to escape their influence it seems. There's a custody battle, I have a cousin who's—,"

"—Nightwing, I know. Red told me…he's the one that called me. He said you wanted to talk to me, get to know me and all,"

"Do _you_ want to know me?" Darren asked. Wondering if this was something she didn't want to do. Had Tim made her come all the way here to talk to him? Was this an obligation rather than something borne of curiosity and at least a little interest? The question hung in the air and the silence grew between them. Darren tried to match their features waiting for her to reply, but they looked very different despite having the same eye color and eye shape,

"I do want to know you…I want to know you better than I know Grant and Joseph. I want at least one sibling who doesn't hate me because _he_ hasn't found a way to make you hate me yet," Darren didn't really know all that much about what happened between Rose and their father, but it seemed to be bad…bad enough that it affected any relationship the siblings had or could have had,

"You didn't want to come with them?" Darren asked, wondering how differently the fight in the warehouse would have been if there had been one extra person there. Darren didn't know how he felt about the fact that she hadn't come to rescue him from the Court despite knowing about him beforehand…but knew he needed an explanation before he judged her for that decision, at least that's what he told himself. Rose crossed her arms and sighed,

"I couldn't. I couldn't work with _him_. Not after what he did, how he lied to me and betrayed me…how he used me," Now it was Darren's turn to frown. The only reason she didn't come was because of their _father_. He didn't really feel that was a good enough reason, but he held his tongue, "Darren, you need to understand. I was still trying to figure everything out. It may not have been right after I left the Teen Titans, but everything was still unsure…I didn't know what to do with myself. I was still out looking for my own path, away from the Titans and away from our father and family. Our father _used_ me, he carelessly risked my life without my knowing when he gave me that Kryptonite to put in my eye and pitted me against Superman and I couldn't risk that happening again. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you then, I should have been there. I will admit that. But I'm here _now_ ," she had guessed from his expression that he was slightly upset,

"I guess you're here to tell me how awful our father is too," Darren muttered with a sigh, kicking at the concrete roofing with his foot,

"Our family is complicated. We've never actually gotten to _be_ a family, we were never meant to be one I guess, as much as we tried. Grant and Joseph are excessively loyal to our father despite hating him themselves for what reasons I can't say, that's for them to tell. But Slade is manipulative. He does lie and he does use people," she let out a bitter laugh, "I once thought I would do anything for him. I even gouged out my own eye to show my loyalty and in return he nearly killed me. If it wasn't for Nightwing, I would probably be dead by now...because of him," Darren walked to the edge of the roof, unsure of what to think. That burning desire to know his father was still there despite what Rose said. Would Slade really do that sort of thing to his youngest son? The one he tried to save from the Court? His method was not ideal or courteous to what Darren wanted at the time, but he had still _tried_. Darren sat down on the edge of the roof, he needed to think. Rose walked over and sat down next to him,

"Look…Darren. I won't tell you what to think about our father. Only what I myself know. Perhaps with you it's different…perhaps there's no ulterior motive and he really does want to get to know you…just err on the side of caution with him," she seemed to get that Darren didn't want others forcing their opinions of his father on him, "He's lived a life of killing and deception—,"

"—so have I,"

"But that doesn't fade quickly or exclude his children. And perhaps you have lived a similar lifestyle, but not to the extent that he has…and from what I've heard you only killed after you were turned into a Talon," Darren rolled his eyes, a glimmer of guilt melded by shame...a sense of something threatening to overcome him...like a glimmer of memory before it disappeared pushed away by Darren he couldn't think or wonder about that not now,

"Killing is killing and lying is lying. It's all the same," Rose rolled her eyes in return,

"My point is that it is up to you to decide what to think about Slade. We all have our own opinions about him, I guess it's time to make yours…but be _careful_. I don't want you getting hurt by him. If he even tries anything I swear I'll kill him," a hint of vicious protectiveness entered her voice. Darren thought back to when he'd first met his father. He had drugged him and then tried to inject him with more Mirakuru in an effort to stop the Court from being able to successfully turn him into a Talon. Grant had seemed against it, though he didn't stop it…neither had Joseph…he wondered why. Slade hadn't asked his permission for that…or really told him what he had planned. He just did it,

"Red said you had questions for me?" Rose asked after another moment or two of silence,

"Why not stay with the Teen Titans?"

"I…hm…I didn't feel like myself with them. I hadn't been trained the same way they were. I had a different mentality when it came to criminals. I felt outcasted by it. It wasn't necessarily them, it was me. So I left,"

"Did you feel that you couldn't be a hero…that you couldn't be the type of hero they wanted you to be?"

"I was no hero…a fighter for justice maybe, but not in the way it counted for the other capes. I do my own kind of fighting now, something that's mine. Perhaps it's not the 'good and right' way…but it works for me, it works for who I am and who I've become," was her answer. Darren found he could relate to that, to the idea that despite everything he's done, he's still an assassin still a killer like Rose was. She acknowledged that part of herself now and didn't hide it. Darren tried to repress it and he wondered if perhaps he too will find his instinct too hard to ignore. He worried about it, he feared it happening and hurting someone. He wondered if he would willingly let himself go but at the same time, he also knew still had time to learn to change his ways. It was complicated,

"If you had known about me sooner…without Slade being there to get me out…would you have tried?"

"I would have tried," Rose assured him, "I wish I had, we could have gotten to know each other sooner,"

"Does it bother you that you're not the youngest anymore?" It seemed like a pointless question, but he was genuinely curious. Rose laughed,

"I don't particularly care about that kind of stuff. Ask Joseph, he's used to being babied by everyone…even if he's quite skillful in his own right," Darren grinned before frowning,

"Have you heard from any of them lately? Grant and Joseph I mean?"

"No. Not lately. The last I heard from them was when Grant called and told me about you," Darren drummed his fingers on the rooftop, "Don't worry I'm sure they're fine. They can take care of themselves. They probably just wanted to get away from Slade for a while and went off to do their own thing," Darren looked over at Rose, her white-blonde braid swaying in the wind…he had an odd urge to tug on it for some reason,

"Don't you dare," she said, not even looking back at him,

"I didn't do anything!"

"You were about to,"

"Do…do you have precognitive abilities?" Tim had mentioned them in passing and Darren wondered if he or the others truly had them from the Mirakuru, Rose looked at him,

"I do, they're not consistent and they come and go. Mostly I can predict a person's next move—like tugging on my braid—," she gave him a pointed look, "or at least something of what they're going to do…sometimes I _can_ see into the future," she looked at him levelly, "Do you have those abilities too?"

"I…I don't know. The Electrum seems to be more dominant than the Mirakuru, if it wasn't I would just be dead…but, there was one time…it was really weird. We were attacked by some muggers walking to the car and we fought back. That's when it happened, it was like I could see what was going to happen just before it did,"

"Keep an eye out for that sort of thing again…sometimes if it develops into something else it can be disconcerting or painful even or just plain problematic. Though perhaps the Electrum overpowers the Mirakuru too much for anything to become of it," she said. They sat in silence again for a moment or two before Rose put a hand on his shoulder,

"I'm sorry I wasn't there…I'm sorry you died,"

"It's okay…it wasn't dying that was the worst part…it was…after," he stared off into the distance ahead of him and Rose gave his shoulder gentle squeeze before dropping her arm,

"You should talk to Grant and Joseph…they have a story to share, they understand more than you may realize," Darren didn't really understand what she meant, but she didn't seem to want to elaborate on that so he went for a different question,

"Do they have precognitive abilities?"

"Not anymore," Rose said, "They're still really strong—Grant may be stronger than even Slade—and agile, and they heal quickly. But any other abilities someone may get from Mirakuru…that's all gone,"

"Why?"

"It's not for me to tell…mostly because I don't exactly know the story myself,"

"I see," Darren stated. They sat in amiable silence before Rose took a look at her watch and stood, pulling out a gun and a silencer,

"What are you doing?" Darren asked, standing as well suddenly slightly concerned,

"Well…" she started, but Darren stopped her. He figured it out already…or maybe it was a precognitive ability acting up that gave him the answer to his own question,

"You didn't just come to Gotham to see me did you?" Rose bit her lip before shaking her head,

"You are the main reason I came…and the main reason I took this hit, so I can see you myself. But, well, a girl's gotta eat," she said with a shrug. Darren glowered at her a bit but eventually just sighed,

"Whatever," was all he said, though he did feel a bit hurt by it…all the same he knew Rose was happy to have met him and seen him, "Will you keep in touch?" he asked almost shyly,

"Of course baby brother," she said messing up his hair before leaping down into the streets below. Darren watched her run off until he heard Tim land on the rooftop again,

"How did it go? Nightwing would have introduced you two himself but he's out of town at the—" Tim's voice was cut off by a loud shrill scream that echoed through Darren's ears…too far to be heard by Tim, but just enough for Darren. He jerked his mask back on and bounded off in the direction of the scream. Someone needed help and he'd lazed through enough of patrol for the night, _"Dar—ugh—Renegade!_ Where are you…get _back_ here!" Tim's angered yelling faded to nothing as he left him in the dust.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!!! Thank god, hopefully, this year will be better! Wishing you all a great start to a new year!
> 
> Hope you liked this chapter! Darren finally got to meet Rose! She is probably a bit OC, I don't exactly know too much about her so some of the references to the past were based on google searches I did previously for this series. Any gaps I filled in myself creatively. So she has some aspects of her story exactly from the comics anything else I plugged in. Hopefully, to an extent it makes sense.
> 
> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT!!!


	12. Chapter 12

Tim paced angrily on the rooftop, not sure what to do. Not only did Darren not have his comm device on, but his GPS device was still in Tim's belt. And he had run off without a second thought because of… _something!_ Whatever Darren had heard, Tim couldn't hear so he had no way of knowing what was going on or where he was going,

"Goddammit Darren," he hissed under his breath. He knew internally that he should contact Bruce and the others…Darren could be running headlong into a trap and not know it without any way of truly finding him…but he also knew that Darren would get in trouble and while he cared for Darren's safety he didn't know how Darren would react to Tim tattling on him. It all came down to one thing…which did Tim value more: Darren's safety or Darren's trust…and both were very difficult things to choose between. If Darren is recaptured by the Court…it's game over. They'd never get him back. The Court would have him under lock and key, under some sort of watch, and in Cold Storage for who knows how long. But if Tim went to the others, Darren may never trust him again because he'd see that as Tim not trusting him to take care of himself despite. It would be a betrayal from Darren's perspective.

Tim glanced back to where Rose had once stood…if only he could call her again and get her to help him…she'd gotten a new burner phone right after he'd called her. Not because she didn't want to be able to contact her brother, but because if Tim managed to get a hold of her, someone else can. There were many people who followed or feared her father here in Gotham…and she didn't want to gain his attention again. Besides, she was off on a hit—he'd promised not to do anything about the job, she'd made him swear not to or she'd never visit Darren again which Tim thought was pretty harsh but didn't push—and wouldn't let the target slip away. Though Tim had given the person a bit of a warning which probably ruined the job but saved the guy's life...much to Rose's annoyance.

With a sigh, Tim made up his mind. He activated the computerized gauntlet and then looked at the time,

"I'll give him fifteen minutes…then I'm going to Batman," he decided. With that said Tim he crouched on the edge of the rooftop, aware of the area around him for anyone in need of help but also kept an eye out for Darren.

* * *

Livia didn't know what to think of Gotham. It was an… _interesting_ city that's for sure…nothing like Boston. It was darker…maybe even colder if possible but she didn't mind that much. There was just something about Gotham that put her on edge. There seemed to never be a break. She'd seen it on the news, in how often her father was at the hospital, in how the people who have lived in the city normalized the chaos every night brought. Everything was urgent, urgent, urgent…go, go, go…do, do, do. There was always _something_ , but at the same time, there was always someone there to do something. There seemed to be a precarious balance between order and chaos in this city, that balance stood on a knife-edge. The ones that walked along that edge—the Police, the firefighters, doctors…the mysterious vigilantes she's heard so much about—were always there ready to step in. She didn't know how they managed or how anyone in this city managed. And yet, there she was…in the heart of the city, the blackness of the sky above walking unafraid—okay _slightly_ afraid—through its streets and alleyways back home from her ballet practice.

She hoisted her dance bag higher up on her shoulders and trudged onwards down another back alley towards her family's apartment. It wasn't that far and Livia has managed to get back without any trouble before. Her father wanted her to take a taxi back, but they were expensive and Livia wasn't going to let a crime heavy city bully her into being afraid. Of course…she could have picked any other day to do this than the cloudiest and coldest nights as of late, but beggars can't be choosers. So Livia continued. As she walked down the alleyway she heard something scuttle and tip over behind her, she glanced back and saw nothing then faced forward again only to freeze at the sound of a scream echoing from nearby…a bloodcurdling terrified scream. She stood there for a moment or two…looking warily around her and towards the direction of her new home, then glanced back the way she came before shaking her head,

"Nope…no…not going to run to my death," Livia started forward again and almost made it out of the alleyway when a gunshot rang out followed by another scream. She froze again and looked behind her,

"Gah… _dammit_ ," she muttered out loud before rolling her eyes and sprinting back the way she came in search of whoever screamed so loudly.

* * *

She shouldn't be doing this, she _really_ shouldn't be doing this but that scream…someone was in trouble and while it wasn't her business Livia just had to _try_ and do something, she was nearby and it wasn't exactly out of her way. She was the daughter of a doctor, she could not stand by and let an innocent person be hurt and die. Livia sprinted down the streets and ducked into the alleyways, hurrying until she stumbled to a stop at the scene before her. A man and a woman crouched back against the brick wall of the building making up the alleyway while a black and red clothed…person…no, _vigilante_ …pummeled the would-be mugger and murderer into the ground. A gun lay in between the two parties. She's never been up close to one of the city's vigilantes before, they were a mysterious bunch and they stuck to a certain set of rules and morals...they were an uncanny enigma of Gotham, though so were the villains they so often fought. This vigilante didn't seem to be considering the so-called rules the rest of his partners did, though looking at the couple she saw why. The man was slumped over, the woman—his wife obviously…hopefully—crouched beside him shaking him as if trying to get him to wake up. Livia sprinted over to them, falling to her knees beside the man, and placed her two fingers on the side of his neck,

"He won't wake up, oh my God why won't he wake up!" The woman babbled, hysterically crying. Livia was tempted to snap at the woman to shut up, because she needed to focus and her blubbering was distracting but restrained herself. Finally, she felt a flutter of a pulse and she turned to the extremely angry vigilante,

"Hey! The man's alive! _Stop_ _it_ , you're _killing_ him!" she shouted. The guy froze, he turned still as a statue before he slowly stood all catlike grace and fierce rigidness at once and glared at her. He was leanly built, with visible corded and defined muscle, "We need to get him help!" she said just as she caught a glimmer of silver in the hand of the barely conscious mugger,

"Look out!" she called worry cracking through her like lightning as she stepped forward arm outstretched, but the mugger had already swung—only for the arm holding the knife to jerk away from its target as if it had been grabbed by an invisible hand. The vigilante—she didn't know his name, she's still new to the whole idea of people taking the law into their own hands and didn't really know what names they went by—grabbed the mugger by the front of his shirt, making him drop the weapon with the other hand and then tossed him into the wall again, his anger seemingly back full force.

With a huff of annoyance, Livia turned back to the man and ran over, looking for a bullet wound. He was losing blood fast and it seemed to be around his legs. Livia scooted over closer to the man, ignoring the blood that stained her leggings, and felt up and down the man's right leg until she heard a muffled groan of pain. His eyes fluttered and she knew she found the wound. Livia needed to stop the bleeding. She desperately looked around for something she could tie tightly around his leg in the form of a tourniquet. She eyed the woman's grey silk scarf,

"Give me that," she demanded. The woman looked at her as if she'd grown two heads, "I need it to save your husband's life,"

"B-b-but…it's expensive—," Livia rolled her eyes and yanked it from around her neck before looping it under and around the wounded leg. Pulling it as tight as she could and tying it just as tightly, she then stood and hurried over to where the other guy was still punching the mugger and gripped his shoulder,

 _"Stop!"_ she hissed in his ear, "This is not what you do!" the guy threw her hand off his shoulder—causing her to stumble back a step, nearly falling over—and whirled around, going from being crouched over his victim to stalking towards her, before he stopped altogether and took a deep breath. He seemed to morph into a statue once again before he rasped out a simple,

"Sorry," blood dripped from his hands and his shoulders slumped, "I…I lost control," Livia stared evenly at him…he seemed to be disappointed with himself…and she saw that he was not as old as she originally thought. He was around her own age and that realization stunned her.

For someone to exhibit that much strength and rage in addition to the desire to save people every night—even if he did lose control and nearly killed someone while saving others—something must have made him that way. Livia didn't know what made a vigilante a vigilante…but it seemed to be much more than just a physical type of guise, it was a mental one…an emotional one too and they took it personally when they failed—or at least this one did. Or perhaps it was something else entirely that drove him to act the way he did.

They stared at each other, seemingly unsure what to do or say.

* * *

Darren was in so much trouble. He had never felt so angry since he started training to be nonlethal…he'd thought he'd gotten there _too_ _late_ , the woman who screamed was now crouched over her husband…but he wasn't dead as Darren originally thought. He'd arrived just as the gun went off, leaping at the mugger and kicking the gun out of his grasp. Now the mugger on the ground might be dead because of his anger, not that Darren particularly cared though he knew of some people who would. That mugger did _deserve_ it—at least he thought so—and Darren was content in knowing he would never attempt such a thing on anyone ever again. Even if the asshole was still alive, _barely_ , he didn't have much brain left that wasn't mush by this point.

Now he faced the person who had saved the male victim from extreme blood loss and as far as she knew it, his own life. Darren hadn't recognized the voice at first but it had been Livia's who tried to get him to stop at first, but also additionally granted an opening for the mugger. Darren didn't know what type of knife he carried but he wondered what would have happened if he hadn't missed. Not many people know he was different than the others, and Darren liked it that way. Livia almost exposed him…but she had acted because she thought he was a completely normal human and he…appreciated that. Someone…a virtual stranger to Renegade… _cared_ about his well-being even if Darren thought her appearance here was almost too perfect.

Livia Baudelaire stared at him and he stared back. Darren didn't know what else to say and while he was sure he had a glare on his face it was certainly not directed at her. Mostly to himself for almost being too late and to the asshole gurgling on the ground by his feet.

Livia stared at him with slight awe, her yellow-green eyes wide. But the awe and terror was soon replaced with disdain as she zeroed in on the bozo laying prone on the ground. Perhaps she wasn't too concerned for that mugger's life after all, but she knew how the vigilantes operated and acted to make Darren stop. Or she was disappointed in his behavior and the fact that he had gone too far, Darren wasn't sure which...and he wasn't sure how he felt it if was the latter. Would that mean he was wrong or was this 'disappointment' all an act? Something to get Darren's guard down,

"I'm sorry," was all Darren said to her again, he didn't know why he still said it...the words felt hollow on his tongue but he felt as if he needed to say something, to explain,

"It's…well, it's not okay…but, you thought you were too late and I guess...you got angry," was all she said to him before silence fell again, "It's not your fault…I wish I had gotten here sooner…I know some first aid…but the man's not out of the park yet,"

"It's not your fault, and you saved the man from dying of blood loss," he found himself saying,

"I got to get home," she muttered,

"You should call the police," she glanced at the man before looking away quickly…up at him and then over to the couple,

"No point in doing that for a dead guy. Though the couple might want to make a statement and a ride to the hospital," she replied as she frowned,

"He's not dead," Darren replied irritably, _"…yet,"_ he amended, "but the authorities need to know," he knew deep down that he shouldn't have reacted the way he did. To at least try to make things right, he turned to the couple,

"Tell the police that it was Renegade who did this…I need to own up to my mistake…I should have helped you before attacking the mugger to this degree," the woman just blinked at him…she was still in shock. He turned back to Livia,

"Right…you all don't kill from what I have heard," she said quietly,

"I'm still learning,"

"Clearly," she sniffed, "but I'm not complaining…I'm going home," she started for the end of the alleyway again. He watched her go a few steps, readying to leave himself as he made sure the woman called for the police before gritting his teeth and scooping up Livia's fallen bag,

"You forgot this," he called to her. She stopped and slowly walked back to him,

"Thanks," she said. Livia turned to leave again and Darren almost let her go but he spoke before he could stop himself,

"Let me take you home,"

"It's all right…it's only another block and a half or so over," she said, "I'll be fine. Besides they need your statement," she turned to leave again. Darren flitted over in front of her, she stumbled back surprised that he was suddenly in her way,

"It's not safe out in Gotham at night…you shouldn't have been out here in the first place, let me at least get you home safely," she had the courage to glare at him,

"I can take care of myself…decently" she added, glancing back at the guy, who was probably now just a corpse. Perhaps she hadn't been the one wounded or mugged, but still Darren couldn't just leave her alone after this. The couple would have a police escort to the hospital, they'd be protected and they wouldn't want to be anywhere near Darren after what they'd seen him do. He realized with slight regret that they feared him now,

"There are always creeps like him in this city…in _any_ city," Livia stared icily at him,

"And there's _always_ another _woman, man or couple,_ you saved them…now save someone else who _needs_ it," she shouldered passed him but he gently but firmly grabbed onto her arm,

"It will save me time if I brought you home. If I keep arguing with you no one will be saved and you won't get home," she stared at him, her eyes bright in the darkness of the city and despite what she had just witnessed…it didn't seem as if she feared him.

Perhaps Darren had _some_ ulterior motives in taking her home…he still feared she was a spy for the Court…but he did want her to be somewhere away from the streets of Gotham right now. She _needed_ to be home where she felt loved and was cared for, where she can wash the blood off her hands without fear of judgment. This situation had such conflicting issues within it,

"Fine," she muttered. Darren pulled out a grappling hook and shot it at the highest point he could find and held out a hand to her, "we're traveling on that?" she asked incredulously,

"Uh…I left my bike really far away," he said sheepishly,

"Do you do this for everyone you rescue?" Darren shrugged instead of answering and with only a little hesitation she took his hand, "You _better_ not drop me!" she hissed, grabbing onto him tightly as he pressed the button that activated the device.

* * *

As they soared through the air, Darren _had_ regrettably considered dropping her…just to see whether she was a Talon or not but he quickly told himself not to…that was wrong. It wasn't the right thing to do. It seemed like an even worse thing to do after what he'd just done…it just seemed completely wrong and he could not and would not go through with that terrible plan. Even so, Darren was a tiny bit tempted to drop her still, he had no answer to the question of whether she was a spy or not and there was a solution at the tip of his fingers...but no...he couldn't do that. Plus that could result in a body, which he would have to deal with. Darren was pretty sure the Court would _not_ let him use their drop site anymore.

Darren landed lightly in front of the building Livia said was hers. He had briefly wondered if it was all a trap when she arrived…seemingly so conveniently, but her actions proved otherwise…for now. Though the knife would be with the police, Darren wouldn't know whether or not it had been a Serum blade given to the mugger by Livia or someone else within the Court. Maybe that's an unlikely scenario, but it's still a possibility. Anything is possible without enough evidence otherwise...and the Court was adept in meddling. People would be willing to do anything for the right price.

While Darren still couldn't see Livia as completely free of suspicion for being allied with the Court or a Talon, he also couldn't deny that perhaps his suspicion was unjustly placed. He didn't have insight to her personality or her mindset, but based on how blood stained her hands were he knew she had helped the man to the best of her ability…she was no doctor but she had _tried_. Darren knew basic first aid…all Talons were trained in it as they were injured quite frequently themselves, but whether they'd use it on anyone but themselves was debatable. It was every Talon for themselves in the Nest. Livia went against that survivalist mindset. Darren envied her for that…he hadn't even thought to check on the couple as soon as the mugger was unconscious, he'd just been so angry and focused on the one person who was dangerous. He'd been enthralled by dealing with the threat...the _target._

Even so, as Darren watched Livia hurry up the stairs and through the entrance to her apartment building he felt he had a slight upper hand on the Court…he knew where she lived now. They could work with that…and suspicions well placed or not there was still something that seemed unnatural with Livia, and there were too many holes in her stories and history. Too many stones left unturned. After all, one encounter was chance, two instances were a coincidence…and more than three times, _that_...that was a _pattern._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked this chapter! Some interesting interactions this time around which I hoped you enjoyed as well as a POV from Livia. What do you think of her? Do you think Darren's mistrust (and honestly slightly stalkerish actions) are justified or nah? Stay tuned to find out more of this mystery that is Livia...and of course the rest of this story's plot.
> 
> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT!


	13. Chapter 13

Darren stared glumly over at Bruce where he stood a distance away speaking with Jim Gordon, the police commissioner, from where he sat on the hood of the Batmobile. He had turned his comm back on to find pandemonium as the others tried to find him around Gotham. By the time they found Darren, word had gotten around within the police that Renegade had gone too far in apprehending a mugger. Darren knew he was in trouble, he also knew that both Bruce and Dick would be disappointed with him. Even though he knew Dick wouldn't approve of his behavior that night, he wished Dick was here with him now. To be truthful Darren didn't mind much the punishment he would receive, he _had_ gone too far. His anger had controlled him, took away all reason, and allowed instinct to take over. An instinct that was deadly, an instinct that was...not exactly frightening but rather, _unsaitiable._ Uncontrollable and unsatiable, 

"Don't be too upset. We mess up all the time, even now," Tim said as he walked over to where Darren sat. He let out a sigh and pulled his knees up to his chest,

"I'm not mad. I did go too far," Darren muttered, though he knew deep down that he hadn't necessarily felt like it was too far...not at the moment...only afterward when the damage was done. It was confusing, Darren didn't understand why that lack of control was so easy to fall to as well as why he didn't care, not like he should. Though Darren remained quiet and neutral on that matter, he knew what the Bats thought and he couldn't lose them not now,

"Well…it's good that you know that. It means you learned from it," Darren let out a sharp bitter laugh,

"Yeah…sure," he definitely learned from his mistake when five minutes after it he almost considered going through with dropping Livia while swinging her home just to see if she was a Talon. Tim gave him a questioning look before he shifted from side to side slightly uncomfortable it seemed,

"You…uh…aren't mad I told everyone you ran off are you?" he asked. Darren looked over at him confused,

"Why would I be?"

"Well I was the one who told you to give me your GPS and to turn your comm off so Bruce wouldn't find out we went out of our way to meet your sister so I basically made it impossible for myself to find you when you did run off and inevitably made it so that Bruce would find out no matter what,"

"So what you're saying is this is all your fault?" Darren asked, Tim gave him an exasperated look paired with a glare,

"Whoa there. _I_ was not the one who put someone into a coma… _again_ ,"

"So he is still alive?" Darren asked, trying not to sound too disappointed,

"Barely," Darren tapped his fingers on his knee, the gauntlets he wore were stiff with the mugger's blood, he should burn them—they're proof of his failure to prioritize the people's well being and the stains would be hard to get out anyway as it was,

"I thought the man was dead…I thought that with all my speed and strength I would make it to them in time, but I didn't—or I thought—I didn't make it in time," he found himself saying,

"That's good," Tim said after a moment or two of silence,

"How is me thinking that someone died because I was too late a good thing?" Darren hissed,

"Because it means you care. You take it personally when people in this city are hurt under your watch…it means that you feel angry when innocent people are threatened. It means you are seeing them as innocent people and not targets,"

"But I still virtually killed someone,"

"But you didn't turn on the victims…it's a start Darren. We knew this wouldn't be easy, you knew that it wouldn't be a walk in the park. We all knew there would be a steep learning curve when we let you out on patrol as Renegade that may result in someone being killed…it was the aftermath that we truly worried about and it seems that there was nothing to fear. Not only that but you told the couple to say it was _you_ who did this, you took responsibility for something you did wrong…that's more than any assassin or Talon has ever done,"

"Except you probably should have feared the aftermath," Darren muttered under his breath,

"What do you mean?" Tim asked,

"I…well…Livia stumbled onto the scene,"

"Wait…she was _there?"_

"Yeah, she ran into the alleyway and fixed up the man's leg so he wouldn't bleed to death…she also kinda stopped me from completely killing the mugger," Darren didn't know why he was saying all of this, it was just coming out,

"Interesting," Tim muttered, "But…how would that have to do with the aftermath we worried would happen?"

"Her yelling at me left an opening for the mugger to knife me but he missed or something—I don't know what happened there—so nothing ever came of that but I wonder whether or not it was a Serum blade or if she was trying to show the civilians that I wasn't…um…completely normal," Darren stated, "so when I was swinging her home…I considered dropping her to discover whether or not she was a Talon. It would prove everything I thought about her was right,"

"And you didn't did you?" Tim insisted, clearly concerned,

"No, she's safe at home right now," Darren snapped defensively, the irritation that Tim would think he'd do something like that prominent even as it was completely warranted given what happened that night,

"See, perhaps you considered doing that because you worried she was a Talon or a spy set on ruining your life and forcing you back into the Court's clutches but your _logic_ overruled your that killer instinct drilled into you from the Court. You thought through it,"

"I…guess you're right," Darren mumbled,

"Wait…hold up…you offered to take her home?" Tim asked after a brief pause,

"Yeah,"

"Seriously? Why?"

"So that I knew where she lived. You have to admit her involvement in our lives is far too great for someone who has just moved to this city. Once is chance, twice is coincidence—,"

"—and three times is a pattern. I know," Tim muttered, "And there are holes in her story and background, but there's no real evidence that she's a Talon or a member of the Owl elite. We can't do anything directly right now, we need more information, and dropping her from a rooftop _won't_ get us that,"

"I know…but…she's so _contradicting_. She's suspicious and she acts suspiciously but at the same time, she's not malicious and she doesn't seem to know _anything_ …it's so _frustrating,"_ Darren growled,

"I know…there's not much on the name Baudelaire other than the books and the French poet Charles Baudelaire. She doesn't seem to show any understanding or knowledge of the Court or seem overly aware of our backgrounds but her actions align way too much with ours for comfort. She's sort of like you in that she's contradicting,"

"How am I like that at all?" Darren demanded,

"You're an assassin who doesn't want to kill people, who has also killed people. I could go on. You are literally one big contradiction. Perhaps Livia's contradictions are more due to the fact that there is not much information on her and you can't decide whether she's friend or foe because you don't really know her," Darren let out a puff of air,

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," he scrunched down, he was getting cold,

"You know they can't do anything…even if Livia is a sleeper Talon,"

"Perhaps," was all Darren said. He worried about being watched, the paranoia he felt was ever-present. He worried about what it meant for after the verdict of the trial. Darren worried what it meant for the mysterious girl if she wasn't a Talon and the Court picked up on the fact that he had spent time with her. Not knowing enough was a liability, it was dangerous…yet they were at a loss regarding information as well,

"Do you think Batman's going to tell Gordon that I'm a Talon?" Darren questioned, forcing the nerves he felt deep, deep down, away into little tiny boxes that couldn't be felt,

"He wouldn't do that," Tim replied, leaning back against the hood of the car,

"What do you think they'd do if they found out?"

"I don't really know…I think it really just depends on you,"

"I see." was all Darren said, looking again at the conversing figures ways away…the wind only carrying snippets of their conversation that Darren didn't have the heart to listen to.

* * *

Livia closed the door to her family's apartment as quietly as she could. It wasn't particularly late but ballet tends to go later than usual on Wednesdays and she didn't get home until after nine when her brother, Peter—Petey—was asleep and her father had just left for his night shift at the hospital. She didn't want to wake her brother and she definitely didn't want him seeing the blood all over her clothes. She was caked in it and the smell of it made her insides roll.

Livia knew there was an artery that ran down through the leg and if it was severed the person bled out in minutes. She hoped the man survived…she hoped she wound the scarf around tight enough and made the knot secure enough that it wouldn't fall apart once in the ambulance. The man had already lost so much blood by the time she got there, the woman hadn't done anything but cowered…to be fair though the woman had probably been in shock. What if she had been too late? No, Livia thought to herself firmly as she entered her room and closed the door behind her, _I can't think like that…I can't consider that. Everything is up to the nurses and doctors._

The light was still off in her room and she didn't turn it on. Instead, she stepped through her darkened room. Neat and messy all at once, her bed shoved in the corner next to a large window that overlooked the streets and buildings below and out into the heart of the city. Behind the curtains was a small balcony like structure. There was no room to walk out of the apartment, but enough room for a box of flowers or something. It was cute and Livia was glad she'd won the coin toss to see who would pick the room first in the new apartment. Boxes lay scattered around her room and Livia wove between them expertly as she went to the bathroom. Most of the boxes were unpacked, but some were still filled with items she had been too lazy to pull out. Her bookshelves were yet to be unboxed so all her books lay stacked in the corner and her desk was stacked near to the ceiling with boxes and books as well.

Livia stopped as she passed the mirror. She looked at herself with slight horror…she looked like a murder victim. Blood stained her leggings, leg warmers, and the bottom of her coat—thankfully not her favorite green one—her face had streaks of blood from when she'd accidentally scratched or swiped at her face while helping the man or yelling at the vigilante—Renegade. Such an interesting name and an interesting person or so he seemed to her. There was something different about him and it wasn't just how he swung from building to building with ease and without fear. He was a kid _her_ age…yet he lived in a completely different world compared to her.

The blood had seeped through her jacket and to her leotard below. She suddenly felt a flash of dread at seeing all this blood. She looked down at her hands, which were suddenly shaking and were stained red as well. Livia threw off her jacket, followed by her shoes and leggings—kicking them until they were stuck around her ankles—before yanking off her leotard. She stood naked in front of her mirror. She then yanked her hair down out of its bun and stepped out of the clothing around her ankles before marching to the bathroom. The clothes were proof that she probably failed. They were proof that something horrible had happened that she couldn't prevent no matter how hard she tried. They were evidence of the true nature of this city, of Gotham...the rumors and stories Livia had heard but never experienced...until now. Even though a small part of herself told her it wasn't true, that Livia had tried her best and because of it that man had lived, she still thought with all her might that those clothes should be burned…she wished them to be reduced to ashes because they were just a reminder of her possible failure, it was proof of a depraved city...even with the hope and potential for redemption brought about by the vigilantes...though with what she's seen today, it was hard to imagine what the others were like. Livia angrily switched on the shower and stepped inside, her anger burning quietly within her...at herself, at the situation, at the fact that someone was possibly dead and she had no way of knowing if there was more she could have done.

Livia sat on the ground of the shower, steaming hot water cascading over her as she tried to convince herself that it wouldn't be her fault if the man didn't survive. Technically it would be Renegade's…but at the same time, it's not his actual _job_ to make sure every idiotic person was safe, even so, he and the other vigilantes take it upon themselves to do just that. Livia had stepped in when he failed to do so…but at the same time he also didn't fail to step in and he _did_ save the couple from actually being killed. This city didn't make sense, these vigilantes didn't make sense...or perhaps it was the world that didn't make sense.

Perhaps Renegade worried he'd been too late which caused his anger, not directed entirely on the mugger but on himself, and that fact clattered around Livia's head like a bouncing ball. Carrying someone's life on your shoulders, especially complete strangers' lives, was no easy burden. Livia probably couldn't do that…it was why she had freaked out, she couldn't accept the reality that she won't know if that man lived or died and she won't know whether or not it was somehow her fault for being too late or doing the wrong thing in trying to help him. And doing that every single day like all the vigilantes did…she wouldn't be sane if she had to deal with that…yet someone her _age_ did just that every single day.

She decided to let it all go, she would force herself to. She'd done what she could and so had the vigilante...they both couldn't think in what-ifs, they'd drive themselves mad. With that, Livia shut off the water, wrapped a towel around herself, and stepped back into her room. Livia went to pick up her dirty, bloody clothes but jolted to a stop…a bolt of anxiety spearing through her at the pile of ashes that lay in front of her mirror,

"What the—," she muttered, kneeling and picking up a still smoking piece of fabric. Her heart thundered in her chest…how could this have happened. If a fire started in the apartment building, the alarms would go off…her whole room would be in flames. How could something so concisely and strictly burn spontaneously?

 _Because you wished for it_ a voice whispered in the back of her mind, _you wanted this to happen…and now it has._ Panic started flaring. This wasn't possible, this could happen…nothing just _happens_ like that. Livia stumbled away from the ashes and sat back onto her bed, still dripping wet in her towel,

"It's not possible," Livia muttered to herself. _But what if it is?_ She thought back. Nothing like this had happened to her before…or anyone in her family…but then again…what did she know…?

"No," Livia whispered out loud, "This isn't _real,"_ but then she thought back to her first few days here in Gotham. She thought to her first day at Gotham Academy and the fight between Tim and Derek…how Derek said she burned him and showed the hole in his jacket as proof. She had no idea how that had happened, she'd just felt so angry when she grabbed onto his arm…there's no way that anger could have contributed to the burned hole in his school jacket. The moment when Derek stumbled into the wall of lockers…had that been _her_ as well? Livia then thought to the locker which broke Derek's hand and wondered…fleetingly…if the helplessness she felt in the situation had caused that too. Livia thought back to just a few moments ago with the mugger and his knife, how his arm had suddenly jerked away from its target as if grabbed by an invisible hand,

"No…no…this is insane," she growled at herself, looking down at her hands, "I cannot consider this…it's not possible…it's stupid. But…but there's…there's only one way to know for sure," looking at her school backpack Livia stretched out a hand and stared at the object…glared at it intensely and just thought of it floating over to her. Nothing happened. Livia grinned with satisfaction breaking her staring contest with the bag, hand still outstretched. _Of course, that's not possible,_ she thought to herself and rolling her eyes, _magic isn't real...well isn't really for_ me when a sudden weight settled into Livia's outstretched hand. Alarm speared through her as Livia slowly turned her head to face the arm she was still holding out. Her bag was hanging by its strap on her arm swinging lightly from the momentum used to settle itself there. Livia scrambled back along her bed with a yelp, her back bumping against the wall. She stared at the bag on the floor for a long time. Wondering what everything meant…she wondered whether she was insane or hallucinating and how this had happened to her…why was this _happening_ to her? Livia held out her hands and with barely thought, barely a set intention, the bag leapt into the air and settled into her hands once again. She hadn't even tried to make it happen…or had she? She didn't think of anything in particular…it just happened. Stunned she placed the backpack next to her on the bed.

Livia took a few shaky breaths before a very deep one to center herself. She needed to think. She needed answers…she needed to make sure this was real…she needed to make sure this idea of magic was true and that she wasn't just losing her mind. There was only one way she was going to get those answers about herself…there was only one person who knew her better than anyone in her family and it was _not_ her father…it was _her_ _mother_.

* * *

Livia's mother had been dead for twelve years. It was an odd thing to consider in that she didn't remember her mother at all that much. She'd been only three when her mother died, but her father remembered. He'd been devastated at hearing the news. Livia didn't remember much but over a few short months, everything that her mother had ever touched had been boxed away and put someplace dark and empty where no one would dare look. The memory of her death was too much for her father, so he tried to put her away and not exactly make everyone _forget_ about her…but just the _pain_. He wanted the pain to go away. And instead of turning to a toxic kind of escapism…he boxed Livia's mother away from everyone, including his children.

Her mother wasn't supposed to be on that plane. That's all anyone ever told her about that incident. Her mother shouldn't have been on that plane. She shouldn't have gone when she did. She should have been home. Livia didn't really see the difference, dead was dead regardless of whether or not she was 'meant' to be on that plane.

Everything of her mother was locked away in the closet at the end of a small hallway within their new apartment. Her father could not part with her mother's things, so he took them with him whenever they moved—and they had moved _a lot_ over the years—but always kept them locked away. He was a very logical and smart man, very precise…but that all went out the window when it came to her mother. They were best friends. They did everything together…but they did not go on that plane together. Livia always wondered when her father said her mother should not have been on that plane if he meant she should not have been on that plane period or that she should not have been on that plane without him. The thought was depressing so Livia pushed it from her mind and instead focused on the task at hand…the closet filled with her mother's things.

Livia's mother had been dead for twelve years and could not answer any questions Livia had…but her possessions might help. So Livia, now clad in sweatpants and an overly large t-shirt, approached the door and tried to turn the knob—it wouldn't budge. Of course, it wouldn't have worked, she didn't know why she even considered it. So she pulled out a bobby pin or two and knelt on the ground trying to pick the lock open…again she failed so in desperation Livia placed her hand over the locking mechanism and closed her eyes before muttering the word,

"Open," her voice sounded strange in her ears…like it wasn't quite her own and the lock clicked immediately. Livia sat back on her heels—slightly dizzy—, stunned at the fact that it worked. It was crazy…was she dreaming? Was this even real life? She pinched herself just to make sure…and it was. This was real…magic… _magic_ was _real._ Of course, Livia had heard of meta-humans and aliens…but ordinary people with magical powers? Or if this wasn't magic…what was it? What did all of this mean? A shiver of anxiety rolled through Livia at the prospect of questioning who she was as a person. She was too young to be having an existential crisis. With a sigh, she straightened her spine and pulled open the door. Boxes piled up high appeared before her and she eagerly pulled them down and started sorting through them.

Over the years, as her curiosity about her mother grew, Livia had tried to get into wherever all these boxes of her mother's things were being held. But they were always locked or she was caught or deterred before she could get to them. Perhaps it was because of what she'd find…or perhaps they feared she would discover this supposed power she had if it really was power and she wasn't just insane. Though she wondered if anyone knew…and she also wondered what it meant that they never told her.

Now as Livia rifled through old photo albums, old portfolios of papers, assignments from college and work she couldn't help but feel a small sense of longing. She didn't usually miss her mother, but now…seeing her face to face after so many years of blurred smudges of memories…she quite missed her. But not enough to forgive her for getting on that plane. Perhaps it was wrong but Livia did not love her mother…she did not desire to know the woman who did what she had done, who had gotten on a plane with another. So as much as Livia missed her mother to a certain degree, to the same amount she despised her.

Yet Livia needed answers. So she went through the boxes, scanning searching for answers in every piece of writing, typed up papers, photographs, books anything she could get her hands on. She might have sat there for hours but didn't find anything. Livia _did_ get odd sensations as she looked through _everything_. Glimpses of roses, or the smell of vanilla…an image of a house as she touched certain objects or a misty shoreline of a beach somewhere. If she were brave enough she'd say it was psychometry…but she wasn't brave enough to exactly embrace these newfound abilities, however vast and great they may be because all of it was unknown to her. To be honest it all frightened her.

There was nothing about strange abilities…nothing about magic or telekinesis or psychometry. Livia sat back in dismay…she knew nothing…she needed to know everything. She needed to understand herself because right now she didn't really know who she was. She was at a loss as to what to do next.

Suddenly there was a thump. Livia's head jerked up and with surprise, she spotted a book. It was an old-looking book with old bindings that looked to be like a medium-sized textbook. It was thick with pages poking out of the edges. Perhaps it had 'heard' her silent plea for understanding and fell down from the shelving above in the closet or what held it in place had shifted and it fell because of that. Cautiously Livia reached for it but stopped herself—was it really smart to be reaching for mysterious, old, and seemingly magical ancient books? The book jumped into her hands, making her fall back with a small shriek. Livia lay on her back in silence, hoping her brother hadn't woken up before she sat up and examined the book more closely.

There was no title and no author written on the front or spine of the book. And while it appeared ancient there was no apparent wear and tear most books would receive from over the years. Surprisingly there was a post-it note on the front that read: To Livia. The book was meant to be her's…but the scrawl was not her mother's as it did not look like the writing she had just poured over for seemingly no reason. Livia grimaced at what that implied but pushed those thoughts away as she moved to open the book.

—It wouldn't open. Livia tried again but failed and so she turned the book around until she saw a latch keeping the book closed. She looked for a keyhole but found none so she felt along the latch hoping to find a button or switch but also found none. Though Livia, in her search of the book, did discover an engraving on the top of the latch and as she looked closer saw that it was a design…a design Livia knew well. The design was of an intricate knot forming the shape of a raven. That design was the exact one etched into the dark silver pendant her mother had always worn. That pendant was something that never left Livia's mind…perhaps at a young age, she had felt it was important and only now realized why. It was one pendant Livia's mother never _ever_ took off. A pendant that Livia had only one way of getting and she dreaded what she would have to do in order to open the book.

Regardless of whether or not she disliked her mother and her life choices, Livia needed answers. She needed the truth and in order to get that she needed the book…but Livia could wait. She didn't want to have to do what she needed to do, therefore the answers could wait…Livia knew some of the truth now and that was enough, at least that's what she told herself as she re-stacked the boxes and locked the closet door. Livia then retreated to her room, the mysterious book tucked under her arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter guys! Now you know something Darren and the rest of the Bats don't know...though does that show what side Livia is on? No, no it does not. I don't know how you guys will feel with the introduction of magic if that is what it is, to this story but it does have its purpose in this tale and I personally love how this mystery and story arc continues and develops later on as well. Let me know what you think, your theories, or criticisms. This plot is building and we're not even at the most critical part of this story yet!
> 
> As always PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT. I love hearing from you guys it makes my day and make me feel better about the story as it's posted :)


	14. Chapter 14

"Darren, relax," Dick said from the driver's side of the car. Darren who was in the front passenger seat for the first time in forever it seemed did not relax his position at all, not one bit,

"No," was all he muttered, perhaps a bit bitterly. They were driving to the hospital. Not because anyone was injured or they needed to go for some emergency, but because it was time to get the long-awaited DNA test done. Of course, legally they couldn't do it themselves and couldn't do it at the Clinic where Dr. Leslie worked. Darren didn't understand why, but Mr. Fox was very clear in how they had to go about this. Everything had to be orderly and done properly. They couldn't lie or cheat…or at least lie and cheat anymore than they already have. Darren's blood itself might not even share anything in common with Dick's as it was anymore, but they had to try and if it didn't then they _would_ lie and cheat some more if they had to. They had to at least try and see if the DNA test worked. They knew Dick was related to him, the Court knew it, William knew it and the Powers knew it…the only issue was convincing a judge that,

"There's nothing to be worried about," Dick continued, switching lanes, causing Darren's grip on the plastic panic bar on the door to tighten as he did so…Darren hated cars. He saw the necessity of them but hated them nonetheless for very obvious reasons. Dick pretended not to notice but Darren saw him slow down his speed as they continued onwards, "Dr. Leslie will still complete the DNA test, the only people there will be her and her most trusted staff members. There is nothing to be concerned about. She's the family doctor anyway and only she will be handling everything,"

"I know," Darren muttered, "but what if it doesn't work?"

"It will work,"

"How can you be so sure? I have Electrum and Mirakuru in my blood, they altered my cells which make them different from yours,"

"Leslie thinks not all of your blood cells have been altered…besides you still have some DNA from your mother,"

"I have mitochondrial DNA," Darren agreed,

"And we're related on your mother's side," that was true since Darren's mother and Dick's father shared the same great-grandmother, Amelia Crowne, and all mitochondrial DNA is passed down through to the offspring it could be used to prove they had some relation to one another…of course males could not pass that mitochondrial DNA on but they can trace the DNA back to Amelia most likely…but there was still a chance that like most DNA within Darren, it too had been altered,

"Unless that was altered too," he muttered his thoughts out loud,

"Be a bit more positive Darren. This will work,"

"I hope you're right," Darren sighed, clutching the door handle tighter.

The hospital was a series of long hallways, rooms, loud noises, and smells. Whether it be the ding of the elevator on any given door, the slam of a door, the beeping of various monitors and machines certain patients were hooked up to, or the sound of dripping blood coming off of surgical tools, people's bandages, and stitches or doctor's sounds of uneven heartbeats, the various rhythms a cascade of sounds shadowed by the possibility of death. The all too clean smell marred by the smell of chemicals and blood, fresh or dried was present…as well as all degrees of smells from every kind of bodily fluid a human could have. It was a wall of smells and sounds that made Darren's head spin. _That_ was also why he did not want to do this at the hospital.

He had never set foot in a hospital before. Not even when he broke his ankle or was sick…it was always a doctor in the Nest. At the time Darren never questioned it, but now he realized it was to hide the bruises, stitches and cuts from training. People would question it, worry about it, and bring unwanted authorities into the business of the Powers and therefore into the business of the Court.

Though additionally, Darren could see now why no Talon would _want_ to set foot in a hospital. Even someone who lives a life of blood and death has a limit and a hospital is an overwhelming tsunami of just that. Too much to hear, too much to smell it was all too much but Darren made himself press on. They just needed to get through this and then they can go home. It really wasn't a big deal but Darren couldn't help but be a bit uncomfortable by the sensory overload. He also briefly wondered if the two people he put in a coma were here. He quickly shook that thought away,

"Are you okay?" Dick asked as they entered the elevator,

"Yeah…it's just…loud…and smells,"

"Smells?" Dick questioned,

"Of blood," Darren replied. Dick grimaced at that and seemed to regret he asked but didn't say anything else. They were led to a room and told to wait. Time went on and the ticking of the clock was starting to annoy Darren. He glanced at Dick who was looking out the window before silently climbing up onto the observation table and reached for the clock,

 _"Don't,"_ Dick snapped, Darren looked back…his cousin still had his back to him,

"But—,"

"—Sit down," Darren stayed where he was. He opened his mouth to say why he was about to smash the clock when the door swung open, Darren scrambled back down onto the table in an effort not to look suspicious,

"Hello," the Doctor said, "I'm Dr. Branley, I'll be assisting Dr. Leslie today, she'll be up in a moment to take the samples,"

"She's not doing the actual test?" Darren questioned loudly. He glanced at Dick with a slight glare on his face,

"I'm sorry but she won't. I will. For some reason, I don't know the full extent of that reasoning, they only want a staff of this hospital to take the blood samples. Dr. Leslie will be the one handling them afterward though. I won't pretend to understand why, but that's how it has to be bureaucracy and all that," Dick frowned but nodded,

"We understand," Dick said smiling lightly at the doctor,

"Speak for yourself," Darren muttered,

"Darren," Dick hissed while Dr. Branley just chuckled. He was a friendly-looking man. He had an almost ageless face but enough lines to show that he wasn't that young. He had kind brown eyes and even darker hair, though it wasn't quite black…he reminded him of someone but couldn't quite place who,

"Sorry about him, he apparently forgot how to be polite today," Dick stated, shooting him a look,

"You can't forget what you never learned," Darren muttered. The doctor most likely pretended not to hear their banter as he set about grabbing a few tools and devices before turning back to Darren who sat with his legs dangling a bit off the floor,

"Let's get started," Dr. Branley said, "Since you're on the table you'll be my first victim," perhaps he meant to be funny but Darren disliked the fact he called him his victim. Either way, Darren rolled up his sleeve and held it out for the Doctor to tie tightly with a plastic band and tap out a vein to stick, though he didn't really need to as Darren was pale enough for him to see the veins easily—the price of being half dead. He eyed the needle with a glare,

"Look away Darren," Dick said,

"What? _Why?"_

"Eyes," was all he said and all Darren needed to remember he wasn't normal and his eyes would flash gold when stuck with the needle, no matter how briefly. With a huff Darren glanced away, even though he preferred to see when the needle was stabbed into his skin…it was the only way he'd know it was being done afterall, he wouldn't feel it,

"Afraid of needles are we?" Dr. Branley asked,

"No," Darren growled,

"Sorry, he's not usually this moody," Dick said. Darren felt slightly bad Dick felt he had to apologize for him but didn't say anything,

"No worries, it's clear he only trusts Dr. Leslie and I understand that. I don't trust my son with most other doctor's, but I still— _reluctantly_ —let them do their jobs," Darren doubted that was true but didn't say anything. Another beat of silence before the doctor spoke again, "Okay, you're done," Darren hopped off the table before a bandaid could be placed on the crease of his elbow. Dr. Branley didn't say anything or try to make him put one on, only muttered about bruising as he labeled the two test tubes of his blood before settling them in a stand on the tabletop,

"Why two tubes?" Darren questioned, eyeing them in the rack on the tabletop,

"In case we drop one or lose one on the way to testing,"

"What if you lose both?" He wondered if that happened often and the implications of what could go wrong if they lost his blood or it ended up in the wrong hands,

"We call you in here again to get another sample," Darren didn't know if he should worry about that, but eventually decided to let it go. After Dick was done with his blood samples Dr. Branley left the room to get Dr. Leslie,

"See, it wasn't that bad," Dick stated,

"…I guess," was all Darren would allow,

"D'aw, little Darwen is embarrassed he was soooo moody about getting the blood test down here," Dick chortled as he pulled him into a headlock and noogied Darren playfully,

"You know I can't feel that right?" Darren monotoned crossing his arms with a frown, though he let Dick continue in his friendly teasing as the door opened yet again,

"Hello boys," Dr. Leslie said brightly, "I hope there were no problems?"

"None, just a moody distrustful Darren," Dick stated, letting him go,

"So much of the usual?" she stated dryly, "You can trust Alaric, he's an old friend of mine. I met him when I guest lectured at his college. He was the only one unafraid to ask me questions and have a conversation about what was taught. We kept in contact and I made sure he was the doctor chosen to do the test for just that reason,"

"See, no need to worry about anything,"

"Yeah, it was lucky that he moved to the city just a few weeks ago otherwise we might have to push this back even more," Dr. Leslie stated, picking up the tray holding the stands for the test tubes, "We'll talk about the DNA test later, oh and Darren I think I've found a solution to your insomnia. Try these," she handed Darren a big bottle of an unlabeled type of pills,

"Are you sure these will work?" Darren asked,

"There's only one way to know for sure," was all she said as she left the room, Darren and Dick following after her.

* * *

Darren sat on the edge of his bed, turning the bottle of unlabeled pills in his hands. He wondered if he could sleep tonight without testing them. He wondered if this was all even necessary. He was kicked off of patrol for the next week because of what happened with the mugger. Bruce had finally decided that, declaring his actions were too much to ignore and Darren wasn't complaining. He didn't need to stay awake for most of the night to fight through the city for a while. So he could sleep late if he wanted. There was no need to risk it all on a bunch of pills. He didn't want to rely on them…and yet…it was tempting. They held the promise of a dreamless, restful sleep. Something that was foreign to him. He had never been so plagued by such nightmares before. Though to be fair, he had never been outrightly tortured before or killed. He'd never been turned on by the Court which had been his home for ten years and had raised him. And he had definitely not killed his best friend or put two people into a coma. Darren suddenly felt old thinking about it all. The weight of everything bore down on him and he didn't know if he could hold off on taking the pills. Perhaps he should just do it…rip off the bandaid.

But, then again, there was also the possibility of the pills not working or making his night worse. There was a difference between a dreamless sleep and a sleep that was still plagued by nightmares he could not wake up from until the effect of the pills was over and done with. Darren turned the bottle over in his hands once more before setting them down on the nightstand,

"Tomorrow," he muttered before lying down, ready to stare at the ceiling for hours on end. He'd only gotten through five minutes of his staring contest with a little black spot on the ceiling when a tapping at the balcony doors jerked him to his feet. Darren padded over to the doors and opened them, trying not to shiver at the chill,

"Dad!" he exclaimed, surprised,

"Darren," Slade Wilson stated in acknowledgment as he stepped inside,

"Where have you been?" Darren demanded,

"I have been busy, it interfered with my ability to come and visit. I'm here now," was all his father said. Darren scowled. That wasn't much of an apology. Cleary something was more important and he didn't even see the necessity to tell him about it,

"Where are Grant and Joseph?" Darren asked instead of focusing on his father's absence. The lack of visiting by his brothers was what was really bothering him. He told himself not to worry, they were older and could handle themselves, but after talking to Rose he really wanted…no, _needed_ …to talk with them. And Darren wondered why they hadn't tried to visit him themselves…did they not like him? Did they not want to see him? Or did they think he himself despised them? They did help their father try and save him from the Court…yet they didn't try and stop Slade from injecting more Mirakuru into his blood which might have caused his death Darren's brothers may feel guilty for that and haven't visited because of those feelings. Darren didn't really know, though nor what to make of their absence,

"Busy," was all Slade said,

 _"Busy?"_ Darren growled, "That's all you have to say? That's all you ever tell me, no details. They are my _brothers_ , I want to know where they are,"

"I know this isn't the answer you wanted but…I can't say right here,"

"Why?" Darren asked, "Because of my affiliation with the Court? I have none, you know that. They don't want me anymore,"

"So you assume, perhaps you don't understand your worth to them as much as you may think," Slade growled, "And it is more your affiliation with the Bats that I have an issue with, _Renegade_ ," Slade sneered darkly. Darren grimaced, he remembered how Dick had used that name and tricked his father into thinking he'd left Bruce and his teachings for a life of crime…ruining any of Slade's plans or business operations in Bludhaven and successfully turned Rose against him in the process. Perhaps Slade thought him taking up that name was a jibe at him,

"I know how to keep secrets,"

"Perhaps you do, but there are eyes and ears everywhere, even here," Darren narrowed his eyes, was Slade trying to insinuate that Bruce and the others were monitoring him? Keeping an eye on him? He knew they kept careful watch on his attitude during patrol—as any change in his mentality could result in innocent people getting hurt—but he didn't think they would go further than that…would they? Paranoia prickled down his spine, Darren knew he shouldn't doubt the Bats...they've given him everything. A home, safety, protection...they were even supporting him in separating himself from the Powers. A part of Darren wondered whether anything was real, if anything the Bats said or did was real. Was his freedom real? Even with his doubt and fears, Darren knew where this was heading. His father had asked him every time he visited to train with him in private and he did not disappoint this time, "Train with me. Just for an hour or so. I will tell you everything I know,"

"About what?" Darren asked skeptically,

"Your brother's whereabouts and what I have been doing since we last spoke," Darren considered, weighing his options. Anyone who ever knew Slade had told Darren to be careful, to be wary of him and to not trust him. But Darren himself has never known Slade, Darren's only heard what everyone else thought of him and he wanted to make up his own mind, "It would be a week or so from now Darren. You can change your mind once the time arrives…I would not hold it against you," Darren let out a sigh. He said that and yet the offer sounded like some sort of trap. If he went it would show he trusted his father, if he didn't it would so how he favored his cousin more than his own father…and while Darren liked to think the value of his relation to both Dick and Slade was equal…he still wasn't quite sure where he stood. Slade was using his curiosity of his brother's whereabouts to goad him into training with him…it didn't feel right but all the same…

"I want to go with you and train. I really do," Darren amended finally, "But there are things here that need my attention as well and—,"

"—you don't trust me," Slade finished, his one eye bright in the moonlight filtering through the doors, "You wouldn't be my son if you did," Darren didn't know what to make of that but he had decided on an answer,

"I'll train with you, a week from today like you say. But it has to be in the fields by the lake a few miles away from Wayne Manor," it was a generous distance from the Manor, and close enough that the others should reach them in time in case anything happens…by the Court's hand or Slade's. Darren would not be openly hostile to his father but he would also not equally trust him…not yet. Trust is earned, not given freely,

"It's a deal," Slade said, a slight grin on his face,

"But…Dick and Bruce must know and agree to it," the grin fell, hardening into a frown one that twisted at Darren's chest. But he pushed on, he couldn't back down not on this,

"They never will," Slade muttered,

"They will if I convince them. Go. I'll show up if I want to and if I convince them to say yes. At least now you have one alternative reason for why I didn't show up other than I just didn't want to," he hadn't meant for that to come out so harshly but it had. And Darren could see Slade's jaw clench before he nodded and left through the balcony doors. With a sigh Darren slipped through his door to the downstairs study where Dick and Bruce had been moments before Slade entered his room. He was sure they were still there, it was early still so patrol hadn't started as of yet.

Instead of barging into the room as he had before, Darren knocked. A pause before,

"Come in?" sounded and Darren pushed into the room. Dick and Bruce were by the fireplace. Dick sitting in one of the chairs while Bruce stood at the mantle, both with tea in hand courtesy of Alfred,

"Slade visited," Darren stated without preamble,

"What? When?" Dick sputtered,

"A few moments ago, the security grid went down," Bruce stated,

"And if it hadn't been Slade?" Dick demanded angrily, throwing a glare at his adoptive father,

"Alfred was monitoring it from downstairs. He would have alerted us before any real damage was done," Dick let out an irritated sigh before looking over at Darren,

"What did he want?"

"He wants to spend time with me. Training…it's how he bonds…I think," Darren said, he didn't really know and he suddenly felt less sure in his ability to convince Dick to let him spend time with his father. Bruce may be more on board but Darren always turned to Dick for permission for most things nowadays, "I want to go,"

"Out of the question,"

"Why?"

"Do you know how many enemies Slade has picked up over the years? Many who would jump at the opportunity to make him suffer through hurting one of his kids? We can't afford that happening, not with the Court case happening and not with the Court of Owls after you,"

"I picked the time and place. It's only for an hour. An _hour_ …with my _father_. That is all," Darren snapped,

"No,"

"Dick!" Darren didn't know if he was saying his cousin's name or an insult either way his anger was apparent, "I want to know my father. You can't deny me that chance!"

"I can when allowing it might get you hurt,"

"I can't _get_ hurt," Darren countered,

"You _can_ ," Dick growled, "It has happened before," Darren flinched and looked away at the carpet over the wooden flooring, rubbing at his arm without conscious thought,

"Dick. You can't prevent him from seeing Slade. He said he has a location picked and a time slot. We can work with that," Bruce intervened,

"I don't trust Slade to uphold that promise,"

"You worked with Slade before. You know he is not one to break promises…at least not when they benefit him,"

"I still say no,"

"What if it was your father!" Darren found himself shouting, jabbing a finger in Dick's direction, "You'd leap at the chance wouldn't you? You know you would! Why is my situation any different?" Dick flinched and Darren felt slightly bad at throwing that at him but it was true. While Dick does not have the chance to see his father anymore, Darren did and Dick was trying to prevent that,

"You know about it, I'll go if you give me permission or not," he continued, quieter, his anger gone. Dick looked at him, a pained expression on his face before sighing,

"Okay…yeah, you're right. I—I can't let my hatred for him keep you from knowing your father. You can go…but only an hour. Any longer and I will freak out and come running,"

"Yeah. I won't hold it past you…thank you," Darren said sincerely, and meant it, "I…I'm…sorry for bringing your father into this. That was harsh,"

"Most truths are," Dick said, "Go on upstairs and get some sleep. You're getting shadows under your eyes again," Darren rolled his eyes but retreated from the study and back upstairs to his room.

He again sat at the edge of his bed holding the pill bottle in his hand, turning it around and around before holding it upright and twisting the top off dropping two of the round red pills into his hand. Darren had been daring that night, he'd agreed to spend time with his father out in the open, alone and without anyone in Wayne Manor nearby…he could be brave again that night. He chucked them into his mouth and swallowed them dry.

* * *

Dick let out a sigh as he closed the glass door to the case that held his suit. Patrol was over, and now in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants all he wanted to do was sleep. He could drive home to his penthouse, filled to the brim with boxes of things a teenager would normally have in their room—a desk, shelving and a bookcase needed to be assembled and Dick would definitely make Darren help him build them in the near future—but perhaps just crashing here was best. He turned to march up the stairs along with Tim, while Damian and Bruce sparred away any excess adrenaline from the nighttime patrol.

Stephanie and Barbara were still out tying up some loose ends with the police before heading in themselves, they alternated who had to do that. It was tedious and while the Gotham police department was pretty adept with dealing with their criminal cases, they still needed the guiding hand of the Bats to ensure things went where they were supposed to. There were still some bad seeds within the police force and it didn't hurt to give them more direction when needed,

"You seemed irritated during patrol tonight," Tim said as they reached the office entrance to the Batcave,

"Was it that obvious?"

"Not enough of your usual banter," was the reply. Dick stifled a yawn before scowling,

"Slade visited Darren tonight,"

"Oh? Did he ask to train with him again?" It seemed Slade was pretty predictable nowadays—or he was just trying to appear so,

"Yes,"

"What did Darren say?"

"He wanted to go,"

"And you said no,"

"We kind of argued," Dick said grimacing. They reached the landing and started up the stairs to the second floor. Dick scowled at a twinge he felt in his right leg, he might've pulled something on patrol and now walking up three flights of stairs was starting to bug him when he heard a crash come from Darren's room. Dick and Tim froze on their ascent for a moment before a cry came from the room as well, they sprinted up the rest of the steps and shoved open the door.

There was no one there, the room was dark and the only thing they saw was Darren, tossing and turning on the bed crying out. They hurried over to the bed,

"Darren, you're dreaming. Wake up!" Dick called out to his cousin, but he didn't stir or wake up. Dick moved to try and shake him awake but he was jerking around on the bed too much for Dick to get a hand on him without getting hit by one of his arms or legs. Darren may be asleep, but that was when his guard was down and his strength was not under control or in check. He could do real damage and hurt others when he had his guard down and was not aware of his own actions.

His cries turned to a scream, loud enough to make both Dick and Tim flinch. Darren kicked out with his legs and his hands, which punched through the headboard like it was cardboard, not mahogany. Dick then noticed the mattress beneath his cousin had been torn to shreds, the springs exposed. Darren had broken the bed while dreaming, clawed at it as if clawing at the phantoms attacking in his sleep. He screamed again and flailed, his fist nearly crashing into Tim,

"We need to wake him up," Dick said to Tim. They both tried, they really did. They yelled at him, they shook him—as much as they could without getting hit by his arms or legs—but nothing worked, they had to duck under his arms or dance away from his leg as it swung out. This was not just an ordinary nightmare, this was a night terror. Something that was extremely hard to shake a person out of, but Dick wasn't one to give up. Darren was screaming still, his voice raw and now both Bruce and Damian had hurried up to the room upon hearing the noise,

"He won't wake up!" Dick called over to them trying desperately to trap Darren's legs so they'd be still. Bruce came over to the bed and expertly grabbed Darren's wrist as his hand jerked out, causing him to jerk and squirm and try to arch out of his grip, and used the other to slap Darren hard across the face twice,

"That won't work," Tim stated calmly, he was by the nightstand holding a jar of red pills with a thoughtful expression on his face, "he doesn't feel pain and…and I think it's the medication Leslie gave him doing this. She wasn't sure of what would happen when he took it. It was designed to make getting to sleep easier and to keep him asleep…but there are a ton of nasty side effects this medication can cause. Especially at the dosage she created for Darren. These are a combination of several different insomniac medications…all of which have their own risks. Those side effects include unusual dreams which I guess is what he's experiencing right now."

"What, so we have to wait for the medicine to wear off?" Damian growled, covering his ears by the doorway,

"Or we can shock him awake," Tim said mutely,

"We can't electrocute him—," Dick started,

"—not what I meant," Tim snapped, "It's not ideal but an extreme temperature change helps with breaking dangerously high fevers and it may be able to help wake someone out of a night terror," Dick's eyes widened, understanding his implication,

"No. We can't,"

"It's the quickest way,"

"He'll hate us,"

"He's suffering. Do you really think he'll be any better off waking up on his own?"

"I thought you shouldn't wake someone who is having a night terror," Damian muttered,

"Usually they're not on medication forcing them to sleep," Tim replied tersely, "I'll fill the bath with cold water,"

_"Tim,"_

_"Dick,"_ Tim mimicked,

"It's the only way," Bruce said in agreement with Tim, struggling to hold Darren still. His screams were still terrible, his voice raw and strained as he tried to get away from whatever he was dreaming about, "Tell Alfred to put some blankets and towels in the dryer for when he wakes up," he said to Damian, who nodded and left,

"He probably won't remember the dream anyway," Tim said in an effort to get Dick onboard with his impromptu plan as he hurried to the bathroom,

"So he'll just think we tossed him in ice-cold water for fun?" Dick snapped, "That's better?" Tim frowned, he did have a point, but it was for the best,

"Usually others would wake up by now, but Darren _can't_. His only chance to escape this is if we wake him up ourselves," Dick let out a snarl of a curse but nodded in agreement finally. As they waited for the bath to fill up Darren's screams turned to moans and sporadic cries or screams. His chest heaving as he tried to jerk out of Bruce and Dick's grips and a trail of tears leaking from his closed eyelids joined the fray,

"Let's do it now," Bruce suggested, no one argued. Dick grabbed his legs and Bruce his arms as they carried him over to the bath and without ceremony dumped him in. Darren was too big to fit in the tub properly but the water did go over his head and torso. A moment of blissful yet tense silence before Darren's eyes snapped open and he surged up out of the water, splashing the tiled floor and sputtering loudly. Surprise written all over his face as he shook water from his hair. He blinked it and sleep out of his eyes, and then looked in shock at Dick, Tim and Bruce crouched around the tub he was suddenly in.

He was shaking all over and perhaps it was the surprise of waking up so suddenly or waking up in the bathroom that prevented him from realizing the temperature of the water he was in,

"What—?" he croaked, confusion lit his features at his hoarse voice and he clutched his throat because of it before he cried out in surprise yet again and clutched at his chest, "Get me out!" he yelled,

"Darren calm—," Bruce started but Darren didn't hear him,

 _"Get me out!"_ he screamed grabbing the porcelain wall of the bath and surging over it, breaking the side of the tub as he did so, the water sloshed all over the floor. Darren stumbled over the ground, his shoulders quaking, and collapsed to his knees, "My heart…it's…it's—," Darren muttered, trying to get the words out. He was panicking and Dick stepped forward, and placed a towel over his shoulders,

"Darren…you're fine. I know the cold makes your heart slow down…but it will be okay," he carefully helped Darren slowly to his feet and placed a hand on his shoulder in an effort to convey comfort which Darren shook off rather abruptly,

"Why?" Darren asked, whirling around to face them on unsteady feet. He took a few steps away from them, "Why did you do this?" he looked wounded, guilt twisted in Dick's chest…there had to have been another way,

"You were having a night terror," Tim replied, Darren's expression darkened,

"The meds," he growled,

"Yes, and they are a trial and error thing. Leslie did _not_ know this would be the outcome," Tim said in an effort to prevent Darren from thinking Leslie did this on purpose. She wouldn't but Darren hardly knew her and hardly trusted anyone he didn't know very well at all.

Darren's lips looked blue and his skin, already so pale, was turning even lighter from the cold, "Go get the towels and blankets from Alfred. I'll get him some warmer and dryer clothes," Tim only offered because he knew Darren did not want Dick or Bruce to see his tattoos, and he was secretly thankful Darren wore a black long-sleeved shirt and not a white one or they would show through and start another argument that might not end as nicely as the earlier one. Both Dick and Bruce hurried downstairs and Tim pulled Darren back into the room,

"Did…did _I_ do this?" Darren asked, looking at the destroyed mattress, headboard and splintered nightstand he kicked on the way to the bathroom. At least he missed Dick's head by an inch. He looked flabbergasted, shocked that he could do that much damage without realizing it,

"It's okay. Don't worry about it. Here…are you _mobile_ enough to put these on yourself?" Tim asked, handing him a sweatshirt and sweatpants. Darren took the clothes, carefully and slowly peeling off the sopping wet ones and pulling the dry on. He still shivered even afterwards. Dick and Bruce came back and Dick burritoed him up in the blankets Alfred heated for him,

"You can bunk with me tonight," Dick offered and Darren didn't even refuse. Just turned and left the room, still wrapped in the blankets. Whether he agreed because he couldn't sleep in his own bed or because he sought comfort from the nightmare or from how he was woken up was unclear and nobody asked.

Eventually, everyone else settled in their own room and by the time Dick had finished getting ready for bed, Darren was dead asleep, still shivering slightly even under the covers with the blankets. Dick silently placed a hand on the side of his face—it was ice cold…no… _colder_ than ice,

"I'm so sorry Dare," Dick sighed before settling in bed himself and forcing himself to sleep, hoping Darren wouldn't hate them for this in the morning and the rest of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter! I honestly don't really like the ending to this chapter, it made sense when I initially wrote this story and it's honestly something I can't really take out now. So it stays. I definitely don't think medication could trap someone in a night terror like that but my thinking was along the lines of it was an accumulation of all the medication used to create the dosage for Darren as well as another factor which is discussed soon after this chapter. Also, I don't think hitting someone would help though that was only done because Darren wouldn't feel it, though his body would react to the shock or sting of it and maybe wake up. I also don't think putting someone in freezing cold water would help with night terrors but it certainly helps with drama. Either way, it accumulates into a pretty decent chapter apart from the ending section.
> 
> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT!


	15. Chapter 15

Livia sat on her bed, very still, her back rigid. Her legs pulled against her chest as she tried to remain calm. Things had not been going well. Not at all. She thought she could control this…this _magic_ she had. But it wasn't something she could just master by pure will. It was _wild_. It was _chaotic_. It was _destructive_. And it was out of her control. Objects hurtled around her room. Things broke without her meaning them to, windows opened and closed, lights flickered, things randomly burst into flames or crackled with electricity without any reason. Her room would alternate from being cold to burning hot and she would constantly wake from a restless night bouncing on her bed like she had just jumped on it, or woke to icicles hanging from the ceiling above her, the room a winter wonderland or a fiery humid mess. Why now? What caused this to happen? How come she never had problems like this before?

She needed to open the book. Livia needed to learn. She needed to understand…but she stubbornly refused to acknowledge the book. It followed her wherever she went. It appeared in her backpack or ballet bag, it would fall off the shelf she was under in the library at school, it would appear in her locker and appear on her desk over her schoolwork. Sometimes she could ignore it and it would go away, but other times she would have to grab it before anyone noticed it. And it would only go after _her_. She never saw Peter running from a floating book…of course, she wasn't physically running from it, _yet_ , she was just avoiding it.

There would be moments where Livia would 'practice' and do things like levitating a book or a pencil or sort through her closet that way. And it felt like being sated after days of being starved. When she refused to use this ability it built up like an uncomfortable cramp or like she had gas…it would make her skin itch and crawl like Livia would burst if she didn't use it. That was when things would fly around her room and the temperature got weird or she'd feel like she was falling only to be in her bed.

So there Livia sat, on her bed in the whirlwind of her possessions eyes squeezed shut with her hair flying around her. Livia's hands were clenched into fists, her nails biting into the palms of her hands as she waited for the moment to pass. A few minutes passed, then another few, and finally…finally…everything jerked back to its original position and Livia opened her eyes, letting out the breath she'd been holding. As usual, the book lay in the center of her room like a magical present waiting for her to open. She wanted to despise it…but she just couldn't. She needed to open the book…but she was stubborn…she was stronger than this fear she felt when things went crazy…she could wait. Livia didn't want to face what she'd have to do to open the book just yet and while her stubbornness proved her strong, her avoidance proved her weak all the same.

Carefully Livia got to her feet and walked over to the book, swiping it up into her hands and trying again to open the book to no avail. With a sigh she tossed it into the corner of the room, ready to ignore it again when suddenly the window caught her attention, the hair on the back of her neck crept upwards…as if she were being watched and she cautiously pulled back the shades—kneeling on her bed as she did so—expecting to see the distant outline of the familiar shape of Renegade. He'd do that most nights after the mugging but stopped as of late. He'd stop and stare over at her building…almost like he was staring right at her before continuing on his way. At first, Livia thought it was just him surveying the area but then she wondered if it was because he'd remember swinging her back here after the mugger attack and now…now it didn't feel like that. Now it felt like a cat watching a mouse, waiting to pounce. A predator watching his prey.

Livia glanced over at the book and then at the window before walking back over to the book and holding it in her lap as she sat on her bed. She _refused_ to be the mouse in this situation. She would _not_ be weak and she would _not_ be unprepared if the so-called cat tried to pounce. She knew Renegade was good or trying to be good or somewhere in between…but even the light has shadows within it and that could be dangerous. Livia was not afraid of him…but wary of his attention.

Livia would not be the mouse. She would learn. Livia glanced back outside a grim and determined expression on her face, he still wasn't there and she let out a sigh.

She _would_ open the book…

…But not today.

* * *

Darren was still cold. He shivered even as he sat bundled up on the couch drinking bowl after bowl of soup that Alfred graciously offered him but still he shook and trembled as if still submerged in the ice bath they'd given him just last night. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to yell at them and hate them for it, but he couldn't. He'd seen his room after waking up finally and knew that he had probably almost hurt them while they were trying to help him. It seemed Darren always hurt those that tried to help him. His thoughts briefly turned to Asher and he forced them away at once, shaking his head as he did so. He didn't even remember what he'd dreamt about, and that bothered him. Was it worth it to still dream but forget what was dreamt? _No_ , Darren thought, _not if the result is a destroyed room._

He settled back on the cushions of the couch, drinking quickly from the steaming mug so the heat would stay the same. Darren was still chugging the soup when Tim came into the room with his notebooks and binders,

"I'm taking the room from you," he said, Darren held up a finger and Tim groaned, "I shouldn't have made you watch _Archer_ with me," he muttered as he waited for Darren to drop his hand and put the mug down on the coffee table—still not broken as of late—with a devilish grin,

"Why?"

"I have to work on a project with someone,"

"So, I can stay here if I like,"

"We need to work, no distractions,"

"How is a guy eating soup distracting?" Tim rolled his eyes and threw his stuff down on the couch, "And isn't this project due _after_ winter break? Which doesn't start for another few days?"

"It will be distracting because it's someone you don't like," Tim replied ignoring his other statement. Darren looked over at Tim with big sympathetic eyes,

"Don't tell me you got paired with Derek,"

"Nope, I got paired with Livia,"

"I never said I hated her," Darren replied stiffly sitting up and stretching his back out before getting up from his seat,

"You just think she's out to kill you or bring you back to the Court of Owls and therefore want to kill her yourself,"

"I never said I wanted to kill her either,"

"You were contemplating dropping her off a rooftop!"

" _Contemplating_ …I didn't actually do it," 

"Potato patato," Darren let out an exasperated sigh,

"Whatever, enjoy your _project_ ," he growled as he hurried out of the room, just as the doorbell rang. Darren hurried down the hallways that led deeper into the house, not wanting to be seen by Livia…though he wanted to ignore the fact that they were working on a project together…he just couldn't, curiosity surged. Darren glanced at the nearest air vent and with a smirk set his mug that he carried out of the room with him—best there be nothing left of him in that room when she got there, that way no questions about him were asked—on the nearest small table and pulled the vent cover right off. He then hoisted himself into the air duct system and crawled towards the living room.

He crawled a few ways back the way he had walked then turned a dark corner before jerking back in surprise,

"Gah!" he cried as his head smashed into the top of the small air vent. It didn't hurt of course but there'd be a mysterious dent in the metal from then on, the exclamation was more out of shock than anything. In the widened vent in the wall of the living room sat Stephanie, a few bags of chips at her feet,

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, she gave him a look,

"What are _you_ doing here?" she demanded near silently in return,

"I asked first," Stephanie rolled her eyes and then looked away slightly embarrassed,

"I'm spying on Tim," she sighed, "I know it's stupid, and I do trust him I mean there was that whole misunderstanding with Rose that I still haven't really gotten over even though it was seriously literally not what it was—,"

"—Steph, you're rambling," Darren muttered, then, "Wait…holdup _what_ about my sister?" Stephanie flushed and shook her head,

"Never mind. My point is I trust Tim, I just don't trust _her_ ,"

"Yeah," Darren said, scooting into the space with her and crossing his arms, "Neither do I," she looked over at him surprised,

"What…why?" Darren opened his mouth to speak, but then looked through the slated covering at the forms of Tim and Livia before signing with his hands,

'Do you know sign language? It would be easier and quieter.'

'Okay Mr. Paranoia. What is it?' Stephanie replied in kind. Darren smiled at her, delighted that someone else knew sign language other than his brothers,

'She may be a spy for the Court of Owls,' he answered. Her eyebrows rose before she grinned slightly,

'Different reason for me not trusting her,' she signed. Darren looked at her confused before glancing over at Tim and Livia, listening briefly in on their conversation,

"Thanks for agreeing to start the project with me so soon before it's due," Tim was saying, "I'm a bit of an overachiever when it comes to assignments," he laughed as if embarrassed,

"No worries. I'm a bit of the same," Livia replied. Darren could almost hear the smile in her voice which made Darren scowl, "Don't hate me, but I've already drawn out a bit of a blueprint for the project. An environmentally friendly house is a complex challenge that I really wanted to try,"

"We don't actually have to build a model you know…just describe how it would be sustainable,"

"I know. But I felt blueprints would be a nice touch…would you like to see them?"

"Yeah, sure," there was a ruffling of paper and a loud thunk,

"Goddamnit," Livia hissed, "Sorry about that," she hurriedly picked up what appeared to be a book and shoved it deep into her backpack before pulling out a roll of papers and handed them to Tim,

"Whoa…when you said blueprints I thought, like, an outline…not actual one hundred percent drawn out, detailed, authentic blueprints," Tim stated, surprised,

"Well…I want to be an architect…so, that's why I did it. That or a ballerina…hm, or both," she replied brightly. _Clever_ Darren thought bitterly, he knew how much Tim liked good accurate blueprints. He didn't know what game Livia was playing but she was certainly doing it well,

"These are _really_ good…so you dance?" that's when Darren stopped listening and turned back to Stephanie who was still looking at him waiting for a response,

'What is your problem with Livia then?' Stephanie bit her lip in thought, probably considering the signs for her answer before fumbling through them. Clearly, she didn't really use sign language as often as Darren had,

'I just don't want her getting close to him. I feel she would try to steal him from me…and I know I shouldn't play the crazy jealous girlfriend…but I have been hurt before and I really love Tim, I don't want it to happen again. We fight a lot but truly do care about each other. And I know he wouldn't stray, yet he still wouldn't know flirtatious actions when they're given and won't know how to react to them when done. I don't know her at all so I don't know if she would actually do this, and I don't want to accuse her of this falsely so I'm going to see if she does. If she doesn't, no need to say anything. It's all just a precaution,' Darren had a little trouble following her jerky hand movements, but he got the gist of it and shifted uncomfortably in the vents. He considered what she said before signing back a response,

'I'm…sorry, I don't really understand. You trust and love him…but you don't? How is that love?' Stephanie smiled at him, and he didn't know if she was laughing at him silently or not but she just shook her head before signing,

'Guess they don't teach love in assassin school,' Darren wanted to grin along with her but frowned instead at the statement,

'Maybe I don't understand it,' he signed in agreement, 'I know what love is…but feeling it, is a bit different…but even so perhaps what I understand as love is not love in the way you regard Tim,' Stephanie frowned at that and nodded sadly, her eyes reflected pity…Darren didn't want that so he surged ahead trying to clarify, 'I love my mother…and I guess I do love Dick…he's family and my cousin and has been there for me…I…I wish I could love my father but I hardly know him and he's a criminal. Everyone says he's just bad and I shouldn't want to know him or… _care_ for him as a son should, but I still do. No one understands that. And there's never been anyone for me like there is for you and Tim or Dick and Babs…probably never will be,' Stephanie shook her head,

'Not true,' she insisted, 'love happens at the most random times…and more often than not, no one realizes it's love until after some time. Love never starts out as _just_ pure and true love…it's not really falling in love, more like _walking_ into it,' silence reigned for another moment or two before Stephanie made a face as if contemplating saying what she had in mind. Finally, Steph signed again,

'I _do_ understand your confusion about Slade. I got my own father arrested…it is hard to face someone you care about who has done so much wrong, but I don't regret what I did and I don't regret not associating with him,'

Darren sighed before replying, 'I guess you're right…but I still need to know him.' Stephanie frowned, clearly not seeing why he would want to after so many had been killed or hurt by his father's hand—including himself—but didn't question it, instead she signed out,

'Is that why you are going to meet with him?' She saw his narrowed eyes and added apologetically, '…Dick talks on patrol, especially when upset.' Darren winced guilty but nodded in confirmation,

'Be careful with him…he lies, he's dangerous—' she started to sign but Darren interrupted her,

'—he's my _father,'_ he signed angrily,

'So was _mine_ , but that didn't stop him from hurting me when I put my trust in him,' she paused before continuing, 'There's a difference between _loyalty_ , _trust_ , and _love_ …and while they go hand in hand with each other, they are still _not_ the same. And sometimes one without the others is not enough,' Darren didn't sign anything after that, and neither did Stephanie. They just sat there in silence. Darren thinking, Stephanie looking at him waiting for him to sign something back to her but he didn't know what to say or think.

Was it loyalty he felt for his family or love? And was one without the other enough to keep his trust? Was he blinded by the loyalty he felt towards his father? Was that loyalty not loyalty at all but just the need for a loving and caring parent? Was _that_ preventing Darren from seeing the monster his father was? Or did he just not understand his emotions as well as he thought he did.

They sat there in silence for a while, their food forgotten as well as Tim and Livia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked this chapter!!! 
> 
> I hope I didn't make Steph too OC-ish, it was not my intention...I kind of really just needed a reason for her to be there even if it was a silly one. I feel she would think that sort of thing was a good idea and then realize it's stupid but do it anyway because spying on Tim when he actually doesn't expect it is kind of fun (but let's face it he totally knows she's doing it and will bring it up later just to make her freak out). I also think she's smarter than anyone really gives her credit for, hence the sign language knowledge. 
> 
> Going off of that, sign language syntax is not like the actual written word for the English language. It can be in certain situations but when you sign something like "where is the bathroom?" the written syntax (as well as what you would sign) is "bathroom where?" so when I use sign language in this story, I sometimes try and use proper syntax but in a lot of cases that won't work or make sense in dialogue form, so I'd usually type it normally if characters are communicating using it. There's a reason Darren knows sign language so well that you'll find out about later in this series :)
> 
> Again, hope you liked this chapter! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT!!! I really do love hearing from you guys, it makes my day.


	16. Chapter 16

The one thing Tim hated about the concept of winter break was that it took forever to come once there was only a week left in school. Days seemed to drag on forever and the waiting just grew unbearable during the last bit before break. It made everything hard to focus on and there was no motivation to do anything for classes because break was right around the corner, they shouldn't _need_ to do anything. Not only that but the possibility of snow also caused quite a distraction.

Now currently in class, Tim turned his attention from the window to gaze around the classroom. Some students were nodding off, others were on their phones or gazing idly around the room like he was. To add to the annoyance of the day, they had a sub who insisted on doing attendance and was painstakingly working through the attendance sheet as slowly as humanly possible. He hoped they'd just watch a movie he wasn't in the mood to do actual math that day— _surprisingly_ —though he figured they would have to do some sort of worksheet or textbook work instead. High school didn't typically do the whole watch a movie thing like in middle school. Honestly, it wouldn't be that hard to get through the work and maybe the substitute would let them leave if they finished early. At the front of the room, the sub's voice rang shrilly and echoed off the walls rather loudly,

"Livia Branley," Tim's head shot up. He knew Livia was in his class—she was in fact in two of his classes. She was very good at math and her desire to be an architect was clearly what fueled her affinity for it…but Livia had said her last name was Baudelaire, not Branley. That name seemed familiar too, where had Tim heard it before? Squinting in thought he looked over to where Livia was sitting, hunched over her desk hands massaging her forehead as if her head hurt, "Livia Branley?" the substitute called out again,

"…Here!" Livia called out, jumping as if surprised, "And it's Baudelaire," she added,

"But it says—,"

"—It's wrong. It's Baudelaire," she insisted, "Trust me," the teacher eyed her suspiciously, no doubt wondering if she was about to be the tail-end of some joke before shrugging,

"It's still in the B's, there's no real rearranging of the order,"

"Very well," the substitute replied, shrugging again, "Jared Connell."

Finally, the attendance was done with and they were told to get out their textbooks, earning a lot of audible sighs of annoyance by the other students. Tim didn't really care, just started on his work, though he did feel his mind wandering and Darren texting him about how bored he was at the Manor every five minutes wasn't helping his attention level. Darren's texts were sometimes hard to decipher because d's, b's and p's were more often than not switched around as well as the m's and w's and he also didn't realize autocorrect was a thing so it messed up the words a lot. To be fair, Darren wasn't really as used to smartphones as other people his age were but he was learning.

Honestly, Tim felt a little bad for Darren. He spent his entire life trapped in one place, only leaving when permitted and now he was doing virtually the same thing, only with _much_ better home conditions. He wondered if Darren could join a hybrid home-schooling program where he spent some days at Gotham Academy and some days at home. They could switch up the days he went to school and the days he stayed at the Manor so that the Court couldn't pick up on a certain pattern. It would allow him to meet other kids his own age and give him more time in the public eye. They couldn't always rely on galas and fundraiser events to put him in the public's attention enough to keep the Court from trying to snatch him again.

Tim's mind wandered again and he thought about Darren's issue with the cold. He had said numerous times he disliked having to wear the cloak with his Renegade suit. It was made in a similar style to what the Talons wore and he hated having to rely on something they all used. _Maybe we can try to insulate the suit more, create a new one with a different type of material meshed with the kevlar_ he thought to himself, _I'll have to research that but it would really help Darren as Renegade._ There was a loud smack and everyone jumped. Tim jerked his head to the left to find Livia had smacked her hands on the sides of her desk and she was staring back right at Tim her eyes wide with surprise. She blinked and noticed everyone staring at her. Grinning sheepishly she relaxed and said,

"I thought I saw a bug," some people rolled their eyes, others chuckled but everyone then went back to their work, Tim looked at her a moment longer. He didn't quite believe her, it was winter there weren't _that_ many bugs, but didn't really know what to make of her outburst. Tim shook his head and turned his attention back to his work. He'll figure everything out later…just a few more days of school and then it was winter break, just a few more days.

* * *

Livia glanced out her window again, a small frown on her face. He wasn't there. Not Renegade, he had not been around as of late and it was too early for him to do his passing by anyway. Livia meant the black cat that had been balancing and walking around on the railing of her mini balcony the past few nights. She noticed the little guy a few days ago, peeping in through her window and she had wondered how it even got up there and how it got down. Of course, Livia didn't try to touch it, wild cats weren't as friendly as others may think but this one seemed… _different_. The third time around though she opened her window and placed a small shallow bowl on the windowsill with milk in it. The cat immediately walked over to it and drank the contents of it. Livia sat on her bed watching him drink. She didn't know how she knew it was a him, she probably was assuming but it felt like it was a him to her. The black cat looked up at her with big green eyes that were luminous even in the light of her room,

"You're a beautifully handsome cat," Livia murmured to him gently, holding out a hand for him. Cautiously and silently the cat had sniffed at her fingers before nudging his head into her palm, "Too bad my dad won't let me keep you," she muttered, "He's allergic to cats so this will have to be our secret," the cat meowed as if in agreement and Livia had to chuckle,

"I'm going to name you Plagg, because I'm a badass magical being who needs a magical animal companion…," she frowned at the concept of magic brought up in that sentence. Livia needed to open the book, but it was difficult to find the time between school and her ballet lessons and the times she needed to stay with Petey while their father was at work. The newly dubbed Plagg clearly didn't understand the problem and purred contently. The cat visited every night since then but that night he never showed up.

Livia glanced back down at her homework, then back out the window before shutting her notebooks and folders and got up to put her shoes and coat on. Perhaps she could find the cat. She was worried and while the cat wasn't exactly her's, she felt somewhat responsible for it,

"I'll only be out for an hour. That's it, _one hour_ ," she told herself. That said she silently left the apartment and hurried down to the lobby, setting off out into the cold night air of Gotham.

* * *

Darren leapt from building to building. Eyes and ears alert. Bruce had lifted his grounding briefly as there was a tip that someone from Arkham may try to escape or that another villain not incarcerated would try and break someone out. The majority of the Bats were watching over Arkham, the others were maintaining normal patrol routes. Bruce had specifically told Darren not to engage, he was just their backup should they need more numbers to help with any breakout attempts. Most breakouts were messy and it took a while to round up whomever escaped before they created or enforced some chaotic scheme.

He was tempted to go off route and pass by Livia's apartment once again but decided against it, he didn't want to anger Bruce anymore than he already had and Darren also didn't want to add to anyone's stress levels. So he continued on his way to meet up with Tim to continue their perimeter sweep of The Narrows together. At Darren's next turn onto another building something caught Darren's ear, suddenly and abruptly pulling him up short to a stop. It sounded faint, it was high pitched and on the verge of being slightly painful. The noise was off to Darren's right and after a moment's thought Darren veered off course to find its source. It sounded familiar whatever it was. Darren couldn't quite place it but it seemed important. Darren leapt across another rooftop, scampering to sit in a catlike crouch on a gargoyle statue to look out over the city. He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.

The noise raised in pitch and Darren hissed and clutched at his ears, now deciding he _must_ find what was making that noise and _destroy_ it. With that, he leapt off and started back the way he had initially come from, away from Tim. Perhaps Darren should send Tim a message and let him know what he was doing that way he wouldn't freak when he didn't show up. As he leapt once again to another building, reaching a hand to his comm, the noise rose drastically in pitch and Darren let out a cry as he landed badly rolling over himself. He managed to land upright, head-spinning and glared out into the night. _What_ was that noise? Darren leapt to his feet but as he jumped something slammed into him _hard,_ sending him rolling across the next building and into the brick building encasing the staircase down from the roof. A hand grabbed Darren before he could rise and slammed him into the wall again, cracking the red brick underneath him. Darren glared up hatefully at the two Talons who now stood over him.

Darren then realized what the irritating noise was. The Court used those devices to lure rogue Talons to certain locations, raising the pitches until it was too unbearable to ignore and forcing whomever into chasing the device to turn it off or suffer, both option allowed the Court to recapture the rogue Talon. How could he not see what they were doing, how could he have forgotten that trick? Darren couldn't help but feel anger and frustration, directed at himself at falling for such a stupid scheme,

"Hello little Talon," one hissed as the other grabbed Darren's face reaching to pull the comm device from his ear then smash it, "Ready to die?" Darren's heart fell, so the Court did want to kill him,

"Not yet," the second assured him, though his voice promised it would be soon, "They still want you alive…for themselves. Do not resist," it was a warning…one Darren was going to ignore. Quick as a viper, Darren slammed his fist into the Talon's elbow, breaking the arm and the Talon's hold on him. He then crouched low as he dropped to the ground and swiped the other Talon's feet out from under him. He slid under the still-standing Talon's legs and sprinted back the way he came, the other two Talons quickly joining the chase.

Darren sprinted over the rooftops of Gotham, zig-zagging to dodge projectiles and shuriken and other weapons. He didn't hold back with his Talon abilities, he ran as fast as he could possibly run, the world indecipherable around him except for the vision in front of him, the wind a freezing cold force in his face, his cloak billowing out behind him because of it. Run, leap, run, dodge, flip, run, leap…Darren needed to find the others. Or perhaps he shouldn't they'd be in danger and Darren would willingly give himself to the Court if they did threaten anyone's life…he needed to hide, or he needed to return to the Manor…his bike wasn't that far away and…and—he really _hated_ that he needed to run. But he was outnumbered and nothing short of killing them would stop them. Darren considered facing them…he considered using his dual blades and killing them, it would be so easy but the others would be disappointed in him. Wouldn't they? Wouldn't they want him to exercise restraint? Or would they want him to avoid capture, to live? To survive and fight even if it meant two more dead Talons?

He waited too long to decide and a thrown chain lassoed around his ankle, pulling him back down to the roof mid-jump. Darren landed hard on the concrete, it cracked beneath him, and he barely rolled out of the way of the sword the Talon lashed downwards. Darren kicked out at the Talon, pushing him back and jackknifed to his feet, twisting out of the other Talon's dagger. Darren stumbled back a step and ducked under the swipe of the Talon on the left, they seemed to be newly turned Talons perhaps someone from his age group but he didn't dare try naming them…but some older Talons _did_ pick up modern speech patterns to blend in more with the populace should the need arise. The Talon on the right flicked out their claw-tipped gloves and slashed at Darren just as the other tried to stab Darren with their sword, Darren had no choice but to dodge the sword and take the slash with the Talon-like claws. They struck deep, tearing from his right shoulder to his pec. Darren cried out, surprised by the pain, and stumbled back,

"Serum?" he questioned dumbly, surprised they'd do this, "I thought they wanted me _alive!"_

"You won't die…not quickly by this concentration,"

"Not helping," Darren growled, kicking the back of the other Talon's knee and without thinking attempted to try and rip their heart out. Darren had never done it before but it was a signature move by a Talon. Of course, the two Talons were trained to defend themselves from this kind of attack and they also had him outnumbered. As he tried to attack one, the other on the right pounced and tore at his leg with their dagger. Blood spattered the roof, a laceration from the top of his right thigh down to the inside of his leg now added to his list of poisoned injuries. Darren yelled out in pain and hobbled backward, towards the edge of the roof.

His system was filled with Serum, they would bring him back to the Court to be healed and then…then they would freeze him, or torture him and force him into serving them or _all_ of that. They would win, he would be trapped forever and Darren couldn't allow that. He risked a glance behind him and only saw the drop down into the alleyway below. Perhaps if he landed carefully enough he could run from the Talons and disappear in a crowd of people, perhaps—

—The Talons surged forward to grab him, tired of waiting for their prey's next move and Darren reacted instinctively stepping back but he forgot about his injured leg, the flash of pain from moving it caused Darren to stumble back even more with the other leg to compensate and restore his balance, forcing his foot to hit the edge of the roof. He wavered there on the edge of the rooftop, arms windmilling to keep his balance and while Darren would normally be able to keep it, his injuries made that impossible. He fell backwards down three stories into the alleyway below.

Darren landed hard. He could hear the numerous cracks of his ribs and feel the wind being knocked out of him…he wasn't even sure if he'd be able to take air in again as everything swam out of focus when his head finally clunked against the concrete. Pain flooded _everything_ …he couldn't move from it, his nerves seared as if they were on fire. Everything was a wave of pain but Darren forced his head back up and sucked in air. He wheezed…and looked down at his body. His blood was still flowing from his injuries beforehand but it seemed only his ribs had suffered from the fall. Darren was lucky, very lucky…but clearly not lucky enough as the two Talons landed on either side of him. New weapons were drawn as if waiting for him to try and attack. One of them chuckled,

"This is the great heir of William Cobb? _Pathetic_ ,"

"They're teaching him not to kill…such a liability…makes one vulnerable. He didn't even _draw_ his _swords_. They make him _weak_ ,"

"I'm…," Darren coughed, "going to—," he had to stop himself, he couldn't make threats, not like this…and it hurt to talk,

"Going to what? Kill us? _Not likely,"_ the Talon snickered, "Grab him," he ordered the other, clearly the one in charge of this mission,

"Who's there?" a new voice called out. Both Talons drew weapons and stared intently into the darkness of the alleyway. Darren, with effort, tilted his head back and watched as green eyes lit the darkness as if they were their own source of night vision and the Talons stepped back uncertainly. Darren blinked and suddenly the Talon's weapons flew from their hands and Darren tried to twist around to see how that was happening but had to stop, the pain making the world swim out of focus and when he could see clearly again the rest of their bandolier of daggers and throwing weapons was nowhere to be seen, their arsenal had vanished. Dirt colored particles littered the ground at their feet as if the weapons had rusted and crumbled into nothing. Darren didn't really understand what had just happened. The two Talons glanced at Darren before looking into the shadows again and turning to run,

"He's as good as dead anyway," he heard one of them growl and Darren had to laugh even though it hurt. They _were_ older Talons…just mouthier than usual because they were chasing a traitor and not a civilian target. The older Talons were a bit more superstitious as they had grown up in times when anything supernatural was feared…even though technically they themselves pretty much filled that category. Darren didn't pretend to understand it, he was just relieved and stunned that such a thing had saved his life.

His savior stepped into the light and Darren felt only utter shock and surprise to see none other than Livia Baudelaire.

She gasped at the sight of him and ran over to him. Darren caught off guard tried to speak but could only cough painfully. She looked at the blood pooling under him, her eyes searching for the source. It must be difficult to see because the blood from his chest wound had smeared all over his suit, which was already red and black as it was. Luckily she saw the torn fabric at his leg instead, Livia knelt next to him and swiftly pulled off her belt and looped it securely around his upper leg pulling it as tight as she possibly could,

"Tighter," Darren coached, "Tight— _gah!"_

"Sorry! You _did_ tell me to make it tighter," she muttered as she fastened it in place, "Sorry! Sorry!" she said again as he groaned in pain,

"What…what are…you…doing…ngh, here?"

"I…well…I was looking for my cat," Darren had to laugh, even if pain snaked intensely up his spine and the rest of his body was a searing mess of nerves in response,

"Fate…works in…mysterious ways," he was tired and almost lost consciousness when Livia pulled at his suit where the other wound was which woke him up once more and caused a loud cry of pain,

"I need to put pressure on that. You're losing a lot of blood and I have nothing to use as stitches," Livia then took off her own coat, her green jacket, and bundled it up, and placed it over the wound, putting most of her weight on it. That was it, that was all she could do medically. Darren's thoughts weren't too coherent at that point, his mind muddled by pain and fatigue…and poison,

"I…I didn't think they'd run off," she said finally into the near quiet…the sounds of his labored breathing breaking the true silence of the alleyway,

"They…they're…superstitious," Darren gasped, "Eyes…swords, _whoosh_ …thought it…was…magic," it was all he could say and he saw out of the corner of his eye Livia crack a small smile…like she understood some joke that he didn't,

"I have no idea what you mean," she replied. Though she cracked that one smile, Livia looked very pale and her hands pressed against his chest were shaking…she looked…worried, _concerned_ even.

Darren suddenly felt a flicker of panic. Why was she helping him? Didn't she want the Court to capture him? Didn't she want this…is that why she was here, to finish him off? But why wait? Why try to help him if that was her goal? Is she waiting for more Talons to come…but why would she make the ones already there run off if she needed them? He felt severe confusion and didn't know what to make of this situation. His head hurt, his chest burned and he felt horrible…he couldn't help himself, he needed to know,

"Why?…Why help me?"

"Why _wouldn't_ I?" Was her response. Her eyes, so worried and so green...so _un_ -Talon-like...in the darkened light, looked wounded. As if Darren thinking she wouldn't do anything for a complete stranger, a Talon no less though she didn't know that, was insulting. Perhaps his mistrust was misplaced afterall…or this was all a trick. Darren wasn't so sure anymore, he shifted slightly on the ground and tried to voice his opinion but choked…suddenly he couldn't breathe and it felt like something else in his ribs had snapped. He gaped like a fish,

"Can't…" he sucked air in with great difficulty, "…breathe!" Livia looked panicked but grabbed his left shoulder and pulled him onto his right side, so he was facing her where she knelt by him. The coat fell free and his blood flowed onto the ground from his chest once more. His left hand, the non-injured side, grabbed onto her arm instinctively. And Livia clamped her hand over the open wound on his chest once more. He could breathe better once again,

"What can I do? How can I get you help…I-I-I can call the h-hospital," She sounded so concerned and Darren felt an uncomfortable twist in his chest at the level of worry in her voice. She was actually _worried_ about him? How could an agent of the Court think in that way…how could they lie in that way, and seem to _mean_ what they felt.

A sensible side of him acknowledged that perhaps he had been wrong about that and felt guilty but he couldn't let go of the slim possibility this was all a ploy. He couldn't risk it all for some stranger, for some girl. Not when innocent lives were at stake, not when it meant that he'd be captured by the Court. Another side of him wondered why would she be worried about a strange vigilante who nearly killed a man in front of her. What did she know about him? She knew virtually nothing…yet she didn't even hesitate to come to his aid. He didn't know what he felt about that…but he was surprised and touched by her actions. Taking a shallow breath Darren ignored his warring thoughts and frantically answered her question,

"No!…no…no….hospit..al," Darren gasped, "Button…on…on—," he tried to remember where the distress beacon was but blanked for a moment or two before remembering, "belt! Second from the center," he couldn't remember left or right and didn't trust himself to say the correct one at the time. Livia immediately—blushing for some reason—began feeling along his waist trying to find the button. It took a moment or two but she found it and Darren almost breathed a little easier knowing that someone was coming.

* * *

Livia stared at the bleeding, panting, and prone boy next to her. Her hand covered his chest wound so near his heart, which beat so slowly and unsteadily. He had been attacked by two men…and they had run away because of her and her magic. The belt wrapped around his leg kept the jagged leg wound from bleeding, the wound itself wasn't that severe but did need to be stitched up and probably prevented him from walking or running well from the men who attacked him. The wound on his chest worried her, it wouldn't stop bleeding…it was like it couldn't clot and her hand wasn't doing much to slow the blood pouring out from it but she didn't dare try and reach for her jacket again.

Renegade was pale…he'd always been pale she had noticed early on…but even more so now, from blood loss. He kept almost nodding off as well and in desperation to keep him awake Livia told him story after story about her and her family. Embarrassing ones, funny ones…things she _never_ told anyone. She needed to keep him awake and if laying herself bare through stories kept him with her, she'd gladly embarrass herself. He probably wouldn't remember any of it later anyways. Yet even as she spoke she worried every second he closed his eyes.

She was terrified…she _knew_ him…he had saved that couple…he had taken her home afterward because he was worried for her safety. He saved countless others, every night that's what he tried to do, and even if he messed up that one time he clearly learned from that mistake, and now there he was…dying in her arms. She knew she should be positive but things were not looking up. She had pressed the button on his belt and nothing had come of it…so maybe…maybe she should confess the secret she knew…the one she had discovered earlier that day…maybe he would understand,

"Renegade…I…," Livia whispered, his eyes were closing again, "No! Stay awake, please please please _stay awake!"_ He tried with effort to keep his eyes open…he was breathing in low shallow pants against the pain he must feel, his eyelids fluttering closed underneath his mask, Livia felt like crying. She moved her right arm, which was in his weak grasp, so that her hand now held his and she squeezed it, "Please stay awake," his eyes snapped open once again and he clutched at the hand that held his like it was a lifeline. A motorcycle headlight suddenly appeared at the mouth of the alleyway, someone leapt from it and started sprinting towards them,

"No! Stay back!" Livia yelled, holding her hand up as if to cast a spell…Renegade's chest wound forgotten in the need of some sort of defense…but she knew none, Livia only used abilities that did not require specific commands, and realized instantly what a liability that was in life. If she could have done something more with her power but couldn't because she never learned, she would never forgive herself,

"Renegade?" A voice called,

"Here! He's here!" she answered, lowering her hand as Red Robin ran into sight. He took in everything quickly, his expression never changing, then ran over to Renegade and crouched by his head,

"Renegade…who—,"

"—poison," Renegade groaned intently, dropping her hand as if it were suddenly on fire and gripping at Livia's elbow instead as if trying to raise himself up. Red Robin flew into action, producing a syringe and was poised to inject it into his neck,

"No! What is that!" Livia shouted as she moved to knock the needle out of his hand. Red Robin fixed her with a hard look—a dark glare—and she froze,

"It's something that will _save_ his _life,"_ he growled as he pushed the needle in. Livia silently let her hand drop. Red Robin then started speaking rapidly into the communication device in his ear, hoisting Renegade up—ignoring the younger boy's cries of pain— as he did so. The vigilante then started over to his bike, "Thank you for your help," was all he said before murmuring gently to Renegade as he situated both of them on the bike then revving the engine, leaving Livia in the dust.

She knelt there…covered in dirt and blood staring at the puddle left behind. Her heart thundered in her chest and she looked over at the cat that was now meandering over to her from the shadows where it had sat for the duration of Livia attempting to treat the vigilante,

"Out of everywhere in the city…you're _here?_ Why? _How?"_ she questioned, then, "And how did _I_ know that you'd be here?" The cat gave her an almost human look as if to say _'you already know the answer.'_ Livia rolled her eyes and stood, grimacing at the stains left from Renegade's blood. She wondered if she'd always end up covered in someone else's blood in this city…it seemed like it happened way too much for comfort so far. Livia then, with a sigh, after wiping her hands on her pants picked the cat up and almost in a daze started home. Her belt gone and her jacket left behind, ruined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked that chapter! It was definitely a fun one to write originally. I definitely tweaked a few things here or there this time around but it was really only getting rid of extra words or descriptors that weren't necessary or putting in a character's name instead of her/him. I used 'her/him' way too much when I first wrote this series and only when I took a writing class in college realized that that was not a good thing to do because who is her or him? People can forget and it'll become more confusing the more you do it. So I definitely fixed that for the later additions to this series and for the reuploads of Nobody's Weapon and Nobody's Savior. 
> 
> As always, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT!!! I love to hear your guys' thoughts, opinions and questions. They really make my day! Good or bad :)


	17. Chapter 17

As worried as Tim was about Renegade, who was flopping like a rag-doll at every turn he made on the motorcycle, he also wanted to punch him a good fifty times in the face. Why couldn't he just ever do what he was told? Every time someone says _do this_ , he did the exact _opposite_. That was one thing the Court didn't seem to beat out of him, and he was so much like Dick for it. They were both impulsive people, reckless and once they made up their mind there was nothing that would stop them or change them. Of course now it was more of a problem than an endearing attribute.

Darren was having trouble staying awake, the guy knew he had to but with the amount of blood he lost, and was still losing, that was a battle he'd lose before they made it to the Cave. Tim was sure he would pass out, and that was bad. Another issue was that they were on a fucking motorcycle, which was not equipped to deal with two passengers easily especially if one was about to pass out. Bruce and the others were still at Arkham with the Batmobile. Tim had already alerted Alfred of Darren's condition and he was sure Dick would be heading back in to the Cave. It left plenty of people to help if there was a breakout of any kind…but did not leave him a safe and reliable way to actually get to the Cave. Additionally no one was really out protecting Gotham right now, a problem they'd have to fix after treating Darren and dealing with Arkham Asylum. A fourth issue was made present as Tim made a turn, clutching regrettably onto Darren's injured shoulder, to keep him steady. He noted how there was still blood leaking from the wound and how Darren barely reacted to his hand clamping down on his bad arm,

"Darren, you _need_ to stay awake. We are almost at the Cave, just hold on a little longer," there was no grunt or reply, just labored disjointed breathing. Tim accelerated, going beyond any speed he should be at. A motorcycle accident wouldn't help anyone at this point but Tim needed to get Darren to the Cave. Clearly the amount of Serum in his system wasn't being affected by the dosage of the Cure he injected Darren with earlier. It was why his wounds were still bleeding, the Serum tended to prevent the appropriate amount of clotting for any wound as they discovered with Darren's back wounds after retrieving him from the Court. They hadn't healed especially quickly either due to the lack of clotting as well. They needed more of the Cure and fast, the poison—albeit a lesser amount—was still coursing through Darren's veins. He would _die_ if not treated properly soon. Tim let Darren's head flop back onto his shoulder as he gunned for the Cave.

* * *

Darren woke as he was shifted from one pair of arms to another. The world was indecipherable around him. Shining lights, the sounds of people talking and muttering with each other, the screeching of bats. He was in the Batcave…he didn't really remember the ride to the Cave…he just remembered being cold and in pain and the sound of the wind,

"He needs more of the Cure," a voice said, _Tim_ said…Tim was the one who had gotten him out of that alleyway. Darren's breathing hitched at that fact…there hadn't been enough of the Cure? He tried to move in the person's arms, but cried out in pain instead,

"Dare, stay still. You're ribs are busted up really bad right now," it was Nightwing who was carrying him,

"Lay him down here, we need to take an X-Ray," Alfred was there now and Dick, as carefully as possible, put him down,

"Cure first," Tim stated, "We can't help him if he bleeds out," A sharp sting of a needle in the crook of his uninjured arm. Being laid down didn't help his labored and pained breathing, but it did allow them to take an X-Ray of his chest. Darren flickered in and out of consciousness as people ran back and forth in and out of the room to grab tools and various other things,

"…blood transfusion?"

"…not possible…Talon…" Darren jerked unconsciously in surprise at that, but then realized they were talking about him not the two Talons that had attacked him,

"Darren, lie still. You'll make your ribs worse if you keep moving," Dick chided again, "We need to do _something_ about the blood loss," he said turning to face to Tim,

"He's not critical yet," Tim replied,

"We haven't stitched him up yet either, the wounds are still bleeding even with the extra dosage of the Cure. We need to at least try…O neg should work…universal donor?" Silence,

"Fine," so another set of tubes and needles were plugged into Darren's arms as Alfred finally peered over him and shined a light in his eyes,

"No color change yet,"

"That doesn't…happen…for…awhile," Darren croaked,

"Try to relax Darren. We need to get you into surgery, a piece of your ribs punctured one of your lungs and we need to correct it," Alfred moved to place a mask over his face and Darren didn't know why but the concept of having to be forcefully put to sleep set him off in a panic. He'd been sedated before but this was different, this was stronger stuff and no matter how rare those occurrences were there was the potential for it to be dangerous. It was also something he didn't have control over,

"No!" he cried, grabbing Alfred's arm with both hands and holding it away from his face,

"Darren! _Stop,"_ Dick hissed, grabbing one of Darren's hands and trying to pry it off Alfred's wrist,

"I…won't…sleep!" Darren growled angrily, trying to jerk his arm out of Dick's grasp. Ignoring the pain that seared through his rib cage at the movement. He wouldn't let them do that, not when there's a slim chance he might not ever wake up.

Of course part of him recognized he was being ridiculous, but the other part of him was insanely scared and panicked. He would _not_ die again, he refused to let that happen…even if the Electrum in his blood, once not hindered by the Serum, would wake him up again…even if he couldn't truly ever die unless his head was cut off and his heart was ripped out or he was given a lethal concentration of Serum there was still that possibility. Darren struggled, ignoring the pain and Dick's words in his ear explaining the procedure, how simple it was and how many times Alfred had done it on each of them. He yelled until his voice was hoarse and he was on the verge of unconsciousness once more and he still didn't let go,

"What the hell is going on in here?" A new voice asked and out of the corner of his eye Darren saw Jason step into the medbay with Tim by his side,

"We need to put Darren under to fix a piece of rib that punctured his lung…he went ballistic. I thought you could help so I called you back in from Arkham," Jason took in Dick and Alfred, trying to coax Darren to let go of Alfred's arm and shook his head before marching over to where Alfred stood over the bed and grabbed onto Darren's upper arm,

"Let go, you're _hurting_ him," Darren stopped his yelling and blinked at Jason,

"No I'm not—,"

"—let go _now_ ," he growled, anger in his blue-green eyes. While Jason did not very much care for Bruce or most of the others in the family…he had a soft spot for Alfred and Darren realized that he would not lie about what hurt the old butler. Darren let go of his wrist immediately, but shoved an elbow into Dick's chest—as gently enough as he could but firmly enough to get Dick to let go of his other arm—and tried to smack the mask out of Alfred's hand instead, but Jason was faster, as well as uninjured—and grabbed it before he could,

"No!" Darren yelled fearfully, glaring darkly at Jason before hacking out a bunch of painful coughs and wheezing a bit afterwards, "Stay _away_ from me!" he growled as clearly as he could. Jason held up his hands, the mask still in his grasp, as if to say that 'it is clearly not my plan to go near you'. Darren eyed the mask as if it were a viper waiting to strike…he would not go under, he would not be forced into a sleep where he had no sense of time. He would not go into Cold Storage…a different kind of Cold Storage, but a similar one nonetheless…

Jason crouched down by the bed, the mask still in his hand and looked Darren in the eye,

"I know," he began, "that you're afraid of being put under because you're worried you'll never wake up," Darren glanced around the room, wondering what the others thought of that,

"Don't look at them. This is between you and me, one dead guy to another," Darren coughed again, struggling even more to get air down to his lungs…the room was spinning slightly, "It will be terrifying waiting to fall asleep…I'm not going to lie…but you'll wake up. Alfred is the best and I've trusted him to make sure I woke up every time he had to put me under since I was murdered. You _will_ wake up," Darren just stared levelly at him and muttered,

_"Cold Storage—"_

"—This _isn't_ the same," Jason promised, "You will hardly remember ever being asleep…you'll just close you're eyes and open them a few hours later. And don't you dare try and say that's what Cold Storage is, you've never experienced it…so trust me, trust Alfred and trust yourself because you _need_ to fix this. This is only going to get worse," Darren glared at him shaking his head but Jason ignored him, lunging at him instead and grabbing the back of his head pressing the mask over his mouth and nose. Darren thrashed, or tried to, Jason had pressed his knee into his already broken rib cage ensuring pain and the inability to move from that pain. It also forced him to take a deep breath to let out a cry of pain he couldn't contain, making him inhale the gas. Darren glared hatefully at Jason who only shrugged apologetically and let go of Darren's head, letting it fall back onto the pillows underneath him,

"Sorry kid. You'll wake up. _Trust me,"_ he then grabbed Darren's hand and placed it over his own heart, "this is still ticking Darren. You'll be okay. I promise," Darren knew Jason didn't make promises he couldn't keep, but his deception really ticked him off even as the steady beat of Jason's heart proved that the man was right. The room spun and everything began to darken, and Darren lost all thought as he spiraled into a forced sleep.

* * *

Darren woke slowly. The pain in his chest was minuscule compared to before and it didn't hurt as much when he breathed. He was somewhere comfy, probably a bed in the Manor…not the one he'd slept in before, he'd kind of destroyed that one. Everything sounded louder than usual too, the noise made him grimace and he felt something plastic at his cheeks. He twitched a hand to his face to pull whatever it was off only for someone to grab him,

"Don't. You need that still,",

"…Dick?" Darren breathed, he forced his eyes open and blinked at the sharp brightness of the room,

"The one and only," his cousin replied. He was sitting in the chair by the bed, a book on his knee which was propped up on the seat of the chair, "How do you feel?"

"Bitter…shitty…angry…where's Jason?" he wanted very much to _hurt_ that man,

"Long gone by now. Revenge is going to have to wait, though to be fair I was on the verge of sedating you myself,"

"Why didn't you?" Darren growled, side-eyeing him,

"You metabolize it too fast, you would have woken up mid-surgery and I knew that would be ten times worse than trying to use local anesthesia on you,"

"Is Alfred hurt?" Darren questioned…he felt bad for grabbing the old man like that,

"He's fine. A few bruises but that's nothing to him. You were scared, we understand that…you've never had surgery before, well at least not since becoming a Talon," silence for a moment or two,

"You aren't really _that_ mad at Jason are you? It was for your well-being,"

"He tricked me!" Darren growled, trying to sit up only to fall back with a groan as his head spun and his stitches pulled,

"Careful, you have a pretty bad concussion,"

"Must've been from hitting the concrete," Darren muttered, eyes closed, Dick was quiet for a moment or two before speaking softly again,

"…Jason's not the only one who's good at tricking us," he stated knowingly, nodding over at Darren. He looked over at Dick confused before looking down at himself. He was bare chested except for the bandages that wrapped around his torso and shoulder. To keep his ribs immobile so they'll heal correctly and covered the stitch work…his tattoo was plain as day. They must have seen it after pulling off his suit to fix him up,

"It wasn't much of a trick," Darren muttered, "as something I needed to do myself,"

"Tim knew about it… _Jason_ knew about it too,"

"Jason knew a guy and Tim butted his nose into my business," Darren stated, but could tell Dick was hurt by his deception and about including the others but not him, "It wasn't that I didn't want you to know…I just thought you wouldn't want me to do this, that you'd be disappointed in me," Dick shifted in his chair, looking thoughtful,

"I'm just upset you didn't want to do it with me there. Tim explained to me why you wanted it and it dawned on me that I didn't even know you were…" Dick paused, seemingly trying to find the right word to use, " _Struggling_ …because you don't talk to me,"

"I do talk to you!"

"Not about things like being worried you'll hurt someone, or kill someone…or even about your childhood with the Court. You didn't even tell me that you were so terrified of Cold Storage or of dying again that you would attack the very people trying to help you. You don't confide in me," Darren sighed, his head was hurting even more now,

"I don't tell you those things because I don't _want_ to talk about them. I don't _want_ to remember the Court, I don't _want_ to think of Cold Storage or dying…but it all still pops up sometimes and I can't do anything about it. It's always there in the back of my mind. And yes, it _frightens_ me, it makes me _anxious_ but that doesn't mean _talking_ about it will help,"

"That's what I'm here for. I'm here to _help_ you push through that, in any way possible. If I'm to be your guardian I need you to know that you can trust me with these problems and fears,"

"I'm used to not needing anyone," Darren confessed,

"That's the problem. You're fifteen years old, you're too young not to need anyone,"

"I'm sorry," Darren whispered, he was feeling tired again,

"I understand why you didn't tell me…just remember, I'm here for you…always," _Always but not forever_ Darren reminded himself as he fell back to sleep, _you'll eventually die and leave me alone…you all will._

The next time Darren woke, it was later in the day and Tim sat next to him instead of Dick,

"Was there even a breakout?" Darren asked, it was the first thing that came to mind,

"Nope,"

"Was it a trick?"

"Perhaps…it kept our numbers lower out in Gotham, making it easier for the Court to come looking for you,"

"I figured," Darren muttered, picking at the down comforter,

"Do you want something to drink? Your throat sounds sore," Tim stated, reaching over to grab a cup off the nightstand,

"Yeah. Thanks," Darren took a the cup and with Tim's help, sat up fully so he could drink from it, "I—uh—I wasn't screaming was I?"

"Before we put you under? _Yes_. While you were sleeping just now? No. I just thought you probably needed it,"

"They goaded me into veering off course," Darren said after a moment or two, Tim leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and folding his fingers together. Clearly this was surprising,

"How so?" Tim asked, "I didn't see or hear anything, just knew you weren't coming or communicating with us and that Alfred couldn't track you,"

"Ultra sonic emitters. Only Talons and dogs…and I guess some meta-humans…can hear them. They raise the pitches so you have to find the device and turn it off or the pain just continues and intensifies…they use them to corral rouge talons,"

"That sounds cruel,"

"That's the Court," Darren muttered, rolling the empty cup around in his hands,

"I'll tell Bruce about that. Clearly there's a sleeper agent for the Court of Owls within the Arkham staff. It was them who mentioned the 'tip,'" Silence reigned for a moment or two,

"Livia was there again," Tim said,

"Yeah…she was," Darren agreed absentmindedly, "She said she was looking for her cat, but she doesn't own a cat,"

"…how do you know that?"

"Whenever I've looked into her room there's no evidence of a cat, not even in the rest of the penthouse. No litter box, no cat toys or bed…not even those tower things they get for cats,"

"Darren…hold up, when you looked into her apartment building? You're looking through her window! _Seriously?"_

"What? She's possibly one of my enemies, she needed to be watched!"

"That is _stalking_ ,"

"Says the boy who went outside at night following and taking photos of Batman and Robin?"

"That was different!"

"How so? It's not like I'm taking pictures of her or watching her get dressed! I'm just passing by from time to time…it's nothing sinister,"

"She might not see it that way,"

"She saved my life tonight," Darren snapped, and Tim leaned back in his chair, clearly surprised,

"Livia put pressure on your wounds and tried to keep you awake…that hardly counts as saving your life, especially with the amount of Serum in your system,"

"They were there in that alleyway, the Talons. They were about to carry me away back to the Court and I could do nothing to stop them…but she made them run away,"

"A fifteen year old girl made century old Talons _run away?"_ Tim asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow,

"They thought she did magic…and I will be honest, I don't exactly remember what it is I saw but one moment they were holding their weapons ready to kill her the next they all disappeared…or crumbled into nothing or…something, I don't remember…but Talons especially _old_ Talons are superstitious and scared of anything relating to the supernatural. Years of Cold Storage tends on scramble their minds at first…they don't remember what time they're in and they remember the past and of course many feared the supernatural at those time periods. They ran off and then she tried to save my life,"

"How curious," Tim muttered, a frown on his face. He seemed to be deep in thought,

"I…I think I may have judged her a bit harshly," Darren started, "I don't think she is a spy," Tim nodded as if to say 'I told you so' but then frowned,

"You must admit though, her being there was still very convenient…and the Talons running away may have been planned beforehand to make you let your guard down around her. There's still not much support of her being a spy for the Court but there is just as little evidence showing she isn't," Darren sobered at that realization…he was too out of it to really remember what had been done in that alleyway to make the Talon's flee which meant anything could have been planned beforehand,

"But then why didn't they take me?"

"I can't say…perhaps there's a bigger plan afoot,"

"She held my hand," Darren stated, looking down at his open palm a puzzled expression on his face as he did so,

"Well…it is a common thing to do to provide comfort for someone who is in pain or dying," Tim stated, a small smile on his face,

"She helped me," Darren said, he was still in awe by that fact,

"Livia's quite a conundrum," Tim agreed, "But I wouldn't put your full trust in her just yet…not until I have more information about what happened last night and on Livia,"

"What makes you think I would?" Darren snapped,

"Nothing…just…nothing," Tim replied, shaking his head, "I just keep forgetting that as similar to Dick as you are, you are very different people when it comes to trust. I'll see if Alfred has any food for you—," he stood to get up,

"Tim…wait…could you do me a favor?" Tim sat back down, eyebrow raised as he explained his idea.

* * *

Livia stood pacing in her room, trying to figure out what she had done to the swords in the alleyway the night before. Clearly she had used telekinesis to pull the weapons out of their grasp…but the other thing she had done on the rest of their weapons, she had no idea what that was. It was some sort of destructive magic that she couldn't repeat or most likely control. She was pretty sure she looked like an idiot waving her hands around at various objects in the room, hoping they erupt into a deteriorated version of itself and crumple into nothing. She paused to glance over at the cat, curled up at the foot of the bed, his green eyes blinking sleepily at her. The cat hadn't left, even when she left the window open all night and silently froze half to death…so Livia figured Plagg was there to stay. The book was still closed in the center of her bed, no more close to being opened than before…and Livia knew she had to open the book and _soon_. She didn't know how she knew it, but she did. She was frightened of having to open it…but she desired to do it all the same. Everything she needed to know was in there, answers no one else could give her and a history she needed to understand.

Livia groaned and flopped onto her bed. On top of all this nonsense, she was worried. She glanced out her window, and even though it was still very early…the sun was just going down…she hoped to see Renegade on the rooftop across from her building. Livia needed to know he was alright…that he was alive. She glanced away and let out a sigh, rubbing at her throbbing head. The minds of all the buildings occupants a tidal wave of whispered, mumbled voices. She could read minds…most minds…she had discovered much to her despair. It wasn't a gift she had wanted…yet it crept up on her unexpectedly the day before like her powers in general. She couldn't read Renegade's mind or the two mysterious attackers that she confronted in the alleyway, which was odd. Most of the time she could ignore others thoughts…but sometimes it was a painful sensation, something like a migraine for hours. The ability came and went, with varying degrees at which she could ignore the voices. Livia hoped that opening the book would make everything more bearable.

A knock on the window caused her to jerk with surprise and she whirled around to open it. On the little balcony she had outside her window, she found a box with a sticky note on it. Cautiously she picked up the note…a smile stretching across her face as she read the boxy, messy and extremely boy-ish handwriting of a fifteen year old. It read:

_I'm sorry about your coat and belt, I hope this makes up for it._   
_I will be okay, thank you_   
_~ Ren_

She knew that wasn't his name, she knew it stood for Renegade and she couldn't fight the relief she felt at knowing he was okay. Her grin still in place she pulled the box into the room with her and opened it. A green jacket, exactly like the one she had owned previously, and a belt sat inside it. They were both brand new…and Livia greatly appreciated the thought. The smile still broad on her face she shut the window and hugged the new jacket to her chest, touched that he considered her after all he had been through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I legit had the most insane brunch I've ever had so I'm just posting this, no edits. Hope you like this!
> 
> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENt COMMENT COMMENT!


	18. Chapter 18

Darren healed over the course of a few days and while he was kept under careful watch by Alfred and mostly everyone in the Manor, they let him out alone one day in particular. They knew where he would be and Darren knew they had numerous GPS devices on every article of clothing he put on before heading out, but they let him go alone…because he requested that. He'd taken one of the motorcycles, it was faster than being driven and definitely faster than walking. Besides, he wanted to do this alone… _entirely_ alone. Darren had never done this before, but he figured it was right to buy flowers…he felt it was important to do such a thing, Dick did it so would he.

Parking the motorcycle around the corner Darren walked up to the gates leading to the Gotham Cemetary for the first time in ten years, an overwhelming sense of sadness causing him to look away from the towering gates. He instead looked at the red and white bouquet of flowers and almost immediately collided with someone else hurrying to enter the cemetery as well,

"Oh…sorry I didn't see you are—what are _you_ doing here?" Darren nearly growled, interrupting his own apology. Livia Baudelaire stumbled back a bit after bumping into him, what she'd been carrying—a book by the looks of it—falling into the soft snow on the ground. She looked stunned by his tone of voice, but Darren didn't really care. Why was she _here_ on today of all days? Annoyance overshadowed the melancholy he'd felt beforehand. Livia straightened up and gave him a slight glare back before reaching down to pick up the book she'd dropped. He noticed then that she wore the new green jacket he'd given Tim the money to buy and deliver to Livia a few days ago. Darren couldn't help but feel a bit glad she appreciated the gift,

"I'm…well…I'm here to visit my mother," she muttered sheepishly once she'd stood up straight again,

 _"What?"_ Darren questioned surprised, he'd forgotten her mother was dead too, "Did…was today…did she die today too?" Livia squinted at him as if confused before her eyes widened,

"Oh no, no, she didn't…I guess I just felt like it was a good idea to, uh, talk to her again. It just felt right to come today…you know?" she shrugged as if embarrassed,

"I don't think I do," Darren replied, sighing…this was the first time he had ever visited his mother, he'd never been allowed to. According to the Court, sentimental connections to those who were not long-lived such as Talons themselves were frowned upon,

"Well…I can just go. I really don't _need_ to be here and clearly you were expecting to be alone—,"

"—No!" Darren exclaimed, "I mean…I didn't mean to imply that you couldn't be here…it's just…well…we keep…I, you know what, never mind," he said finally. Darren couldn't really just say they kept crossing paths way too much for comfort. He couldn't say that he thought she was someone meant to do him harm…that she was a spy for people who wanted him under their control. That would offend her even more than he probably already had. And tip anyone off if she was a spy for the Court, though that suspicion dwindled into nothingness as time passed since Darren had been injured. It just didn't make sense anymore but the wariness was still there,

"Okay…we'll…just go in together then?" she asked as if wondering if that was okay. Darren bit his lip before nodding. Together they opened the gates and started down the rows of tombstones in silence. Darren wanted to start a conversation, to bring up something she had told him while in the alleyway a few nights ago to at least break the crushing silence between them…but she had told him those stories when he was Renegade, it would be too revealing. Still, Darren felt he should say something, but nothing really came to mind.

Livia eventually branched off in a different direction leaving Darren to find the Crowne family plot by himself. There was a family mausoleum, but also a plot. His mother had requested to be buried outside, in the open air. Perhaps she was trying to distance herself from her family—who enabled the Court's activities in order to keep their family members out of their inner circle—by doing so or maybe she just didn't want to be stored away in a box within a box. Darren didn't know the answer, but he found it less sinister to visit a tombstone than a giant stone building harboring his dead ancestors.

He walked slowly, the snow crunching gently under his boots. He'd bundled up excessively because he wasn't in his Renegade suit and the cold would bother him more without it. Two coats, two pairs of socks, a long-sleeved shirt, a thick sweater, gloves, a hat, and scarves…and he was still cold. But Darren trudged on nonetheless.

Once he found the tombstone he kind of just stared at it. He didn't really remember what it looked like from the funeral. He stood there quietly until he finally couldn't stand it anymore and collapsed to his knees before the marble and placed the flowers on the ground in front of it,

"H-hello mom," Darren whispered in the quiet of the cemetery as silent tears trickled down his cheeks, startling him. He hadn't realized he'd started to cry. He could see Livia kneeling in front of her own tombstone a long ways away. Her words were lost in the wind but he did not care to listen.

Darren merely wept…after all these years he'd finally been able to come to the cemetery on the day she had been murdered to say how sorry he was. How he wished that things could have been different. How he wished that she had not been alone when she died. How he wished that day had never happened. And Darren was just speechless. All those things he wanted to say couldn't escape his mouth. He remained silent for a while,

"I-I miss you," he managed to croak out before silence overwhelmed him yet again,

"It wasn't your fault," a voice said from above him a few moments later. Darren didn't even flinch or look behind him,

"What are you doing here Malik. _Go away,"_ Darren was not in the mood. The man didn't know what he was talking about. There was a crunch of boots on snow and suddenly Malik was standing over his shoulder. He wore his Talon armor and cloak but did not wear the mask so his dark hair and eyes were visible, though his hood made his features indecipherable to anyone but a Talon,

"I too thought I was at fault for the deaths of those I loved," he said, "But that was decades ago…centuries for my family, a mere decade for the woman I once thought to love as well as for the man I once loved years after her. It fades after a while…the hurt, the pain of it,"

"Not helping," Darren growled, "I don't _want_ to forget," he traced his mother's name etched into the marble as he had with her signature when he was little,

"What do you even remember of her death?" Malik questioned,

"I remember enough," Darren growled, "I remembered that even though I was just five years old I wanted to go to a sleepover I had been invited to. I thought I was brave enough to stay away from home for one stupid night,"

"But?" Malik coached,

"You _know_ what happened. Why are you doing this?"

"Because you need to see that you could not have known what would happen. You were a _child,"_

"There was a snowstorm," Darren continued, unable to stop himself, "A bad one…and I got _scared_. So I had my friend's mom call home and ask them to come and get me. And instead of insisting to wait until tomorrow because the roads were bad…my mom had our driver take her down into the city to get me,"

"Only it wasn't your usual driver," Darren nodded, eyes wide and glazed over as if mesmerized by his own story of tragedy,

"It was William," Darren remembered peering out into the snow, watching it swirl dangerously as he waited for his mom to come and get him. Embarrassed to have been a hassle and scared like a little baby, but his friend's mother—he couldn't remember their faces or their names—had been kind. She understood his distress and assured him his mother would be there soon. The car finally pulled up but it wasn't his mother who got out of the car and started to where Darren stood at the top of the steps ready to go, it was the driver…but Darren didn't recognize him. He should have known something was wrong right then and there. He had been scared and it should be his mother coming out to get him, to comfort him…but he foolishly stood there blinking owlishly at the man approaching.

Darren had then heard pounding and glanced behind the man as he drew nearer and saw his mother frantically pounding on the window of the car, trying to open the door. She caught his eye and mouthed _'run'_ at him. Darren hesitated for a second until he could see the dark sinister eyes of the fake driver before he turned and ran back into the house, locking the door. He ran down the halls, hysterically shouting for help. Darren knew now that William could have easily ripped the door off the hinges, but that would leave too much evidence of a struggle. It needed to look like an accident, so William had cut his losses and turned back to the car.

Darren scrambled to the windows, pointing and shouting at the car as his friend's mom called the police, but William was already at the wheel. He drove the car straight into oncoming traffic. Darren, watching from the window as the car accelerated at an alarming rate through the nearest intersection, had then run to the door and out into the snow, screaming as the car crashed. It flew through the air, rolling over itself, and finally landed in a crumpled mess on the sidewalk a few feet away from other civilians watching on in horror.

He'd collapsed to his knees, exactly like he had a few moments ago in front of the tombstone, in the snow. Sobbing, inconsolably… _I was scared, I asked her to come…it's my fault, my fault, my fault_ echoed harshly over and over again in his five-year-old head. Darren watched horrified as William climbed out of the wreckage completely alive and pointed a finger at him and even from a distance he could see or at least assumed what he mouthed at him, _'soon boy.'_

Darren squeezed his eyes closed, nails biting into the skin of his palms as his hands curled into fists. That was all Darren was willing to let himself remember. He wouldn't think of how they pulled his mother's broken body from the wreckage…or how his friend's whole family disappeared overnight so any claim of his that there was a strange man driving their car was never backed up or considered as fact. The driver was drunk and drove the wrong way…that was all, that's what happened. _No_ Darren thought darkly, _that's what the Court wanted them to think, and they ate it up._ He himself had allowed their plans to happen perfectly,

"You couldn't have known," Malik said again, forcing Darren's thoughts yet again back to the present,

"I could have been braver," Darren muttered harshly glancing away from the marble before him and catching sight of Livia once again, "Do you know of anyone by the name Livia Baudelaire?" he asked Malik,

"Who?"

"Her," Darren stated, jerking his head in her direction, he had a Talon he trusted with him it best be time he confirmed her relation to the Court,

"I have never seen that girl before in my life, let alone the Nest," Malik stated with his usual level of contempt, "Why do you ask?"

"Nothing," Darren breathed. Shock and surprise…and…and utter _relief_ flooding through him. He didn't have to fear her, he didn't have to hate her and be suspicious of her. He was _wrong_. He had been so _terribly_ and _wonderfully wrong_ about her. She knew nothing of the Court, of Talons or even of him…he would have to tell Tim that he was wrong. He was _wrong_. He'd never been so relieved about being wrong before in his entire life. Darren wouldn't have to do anything he'd later regret. There was no need to be suspicious, no need to watch what he said, no need to contemplate physical harm…no need to wonder and worry about who she was,

"Is that a smile I see?" Malik questioned, "I do not know her…though it appears that you do,"

"It's nothing," Darren insisted, the smile falling as soon as it appeared, "I want to be alone,"

"Very well…but remember, this is _not_ your fault. You won't despair forever," Darren ignored the man as he snuck away. He placed a hand on the tombstone,

"I love you, mom. I miss you everyday…and…and I'm going to come and visit more often than this, I owe you that and I can now—no one can stop me anymore. I'll get to see you whenever I want," and though he felt a bit foolish for doing so, he pressed a light kiss to the pale marble and then sat back on his heels.

A sudden scream echoed from across the cemetery, pulling Darren to his feet before he fully processed it. Darren was running before he even realized it had come from Livia.

* * *

Livia meandered slowly to where her father had managed to move her mother's body. They'd managed to get their family a plot here in the Gotham Cemetary when they moved there, and though her father went there once every other week, this was the first time she'd come to the graves. Livia didn't want to do this. But the book…and the recent events she'd been involved in…had forced her hands. _No more being the mouse_ she had promised herself. She needed to learn, she needed answers and she was lying to herself if she kept thinking she'd get them without the book's help. Which meant she needed her mother's necklace, the necklace she had been buried with.

Never in her entire life had grave-robbing ever come to mind. She never considered ever desiring to do it, but she must. It was the only way to get the necklace and therefore the only way she could open the book. Though to be honest, was it really grave-robbing if it was your mother's grave? Livia didn't know the answer and didn't really care to learn that answer.

Plagg had disappeared again that morning, refusing to come along it seemed, so Livia was on her own…well not completely on her own. Livia glanced behind her, eyes scanning the headstones until she found her dark blond-haired companion for the afternoon in the empty cemetery kneeling, head bowed in front of another grave. He hadn't seemed happy to see her there when she'd arrived and she didn't blame him. While he clearly loved his mother…Livia held no feelings of sympathy for her mother's untimely demise.

Livia glared at the tombstone next to her mother's. Her father kept it only as a courtesy to her dearly departed mother and their family. Livia didn't understand why he had done it. He owed her— _them_ —no favors,

"This is your fault," she hissed at the gray marble, the wind whipping around sharply in response to her anger, "Though you're equally to blame as well… _mother_ ," she said bitterly to the tombstone in front of her. Livia never usually said that word out loud…she'd never called the woman mother before. To be honest, she never really talked about her at all.

With a sigh she just rolled her shoulders a few times and then placed her hands on the ground, ignoring the ice-cold numbness of it even though she scraped away as much snow as possible. Closing her eyes she thought of the necklace trapped beneath the earth, approaching the issue similarly to that of requiring a book out of reach or a cup of water on the nightstand she was too lazy to get up for. Telekinesis was one of the easier abilities to replicate, it was like using a well-toned muscle within herself.

The wind picked up and the ground beneath her hands shook as she pulled the necklace through the frozen ground with only her mind and her power, a coiled nexus of energy that lived within her. Livia gritted her teeth, she hoped the cold wouldn't interfere with summoning the necklace up but she couldn't really worry about that. She had already started and she'd see it through. Finally, the dirt pulled away to reveal the fine pewter and stainless steel necklace…wrapped around the _skeletal hand and wrist_ of her mother! Livia scrambled back away from the remains, a scream slipping out as she did so…very alarmed by what was pulled from six feet under.

Forcing herself forward Livia gripped the bones in her gloved hand and untangled the necklace from it as quickly as possible disgusted by having to touch the bones of her own mother and letting the necklace pool into her palm. The crunching of snow sounded from behind and Livia whirled around, closing her hand around the necklace, tucking it behind her back. Darren stood before her, eyes scanning the area with the intensity of a hawk looking for prey as if looking for an attacker,

"I heard you scream…is everything okay?" he asked, his light blue-grey eyes seemed to bore into her own. She didn't know how he could have possibly heard her or get to her as fast as he did, she was very far away from him, almost on the complete other side of the cemetery. Livia looked away and had to smile,

"I'm fine. It's…just a bit spooky here that's all," she looked back to him but his attention was fixed on something by her feet. She glanced down, her eyes widening in surprise,

"Is that a hand bone?" Darren questioned. Livia frantically kicked it behind her, back into the small hole from whence it came,

"It's nothing…don't ask," she monotoned,

"Okay…sorry…I was just worried,"

"You don't need to worry. I can take care of myself, I'm fine," a pause between the two of them before he spoke again,

"I—I want to apologize for earlier," he stated, "I didn't mean to imply you were unwelcome here,"

"It's fine, you're—," he cut her off,

"—And I'm sorry if I was ever rude or cruel to you before…or dismissive," Livia blinked at him surprised by the sudden round of apologies,

"Perhaps you were cautious yes, but rude, cruel, or dismissive? You were never those things Darren," she stated with a small smile,

"Are you just saying that to be nice?" Darren questioned, not seeming to sense her sincerity or perhaps, actually, not _recognizing_ it,

"I _know_ you Darren Crowne, and you are not a cruel person…not to those who don't deserve it," he seemed taken aback by that statement and shrunk back awkwardly not sure how to take the remark,

"Do you…uh…visit your mother often?" Livia couldn't help but frown at that question,

"No. First time in a long while," was all she said,

"Me too," he replied, surprising her. He clearly mourned his mother deeply, Livia thought he'd visit more often than not, "Though clearly for a different reason than you," so even he had secrets he'd rather not share,

"If you don't mind me asking…why not?" Livia was quiet for a time and he clearly took her silence for offense and not her contemplating how to answer, "I'm sorry I ever asked, I—I'll just go,"

"No! _Wait_ …I'm not angry. You're just curious…I was thinking of how to answer…it's rather complicated," Livia replied, reaching out to grab him by the arm but he had turned back around again before she could, "It's because she left us…she went on that plane with someone else, with a bad person,"

"Who?" Darren asked, eyes wide with intrigue,

"My...uh...a family member who had gotten in trouble with some very powerful people…a _criminal_. My mother got caught up in the crossfire and…well…ended up dead,"

"So the plane crash wasn't an accident?"

"Was the car crash an accident?" Livia shot back, Darren winced and shook his head,

"No," he whispered,

"And no one even questioned it," she stated, "for both of us,"

"And you despise her because she left…even if it was probably to protect you?" Livia bit her lip, she had never considered her mother had left them to protect her and her father,

"Well…I only know the story I have been told, I'll never know the rest of it," Livia stated, "At least not yet,"

"Well…I hope you find the answers you're looking for," Darren said, then, "I understand though, truly I do…my father is a criminal as well. It's been hard to completely trust him," Livia could tell he wasn't lying…she could see it, see that look in his eye that she sometimes recognized in her own. He too knew someone he could never fully trust, though the people she viewed in similar respect were dead. She never had to look them in the eye and wonder if what they said was the truth or just another manipulation,

"And once I do get my answers…you'll be the first to know," she found herself saying, and she meant that. Darren grinned at that,

"I'm honored to be viewed as such a confidant," he said, giving her a jokingly mocking bow which caused his hat to fall off. Livia let out a chuckle as he reached down to pick it up and shake the snow off it. She'd never seen this side of Darren…this lighter side hidden within himself. And Livia liked what she saw, perhaps she'll know more than just two sides of this very strange and very mysterious boy.

Livia left that cemetery with a new friend…and she hoped that feeling was mutual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter! Definitely better edited than last week's chapter. I remember certainly enjoying writing this chapter, it was very fun. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts and opinions. I love hearing what you guys have to say! In short, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT!


	19. Chapter 19

Tim tapped his foot impatiently at his desk. It was finally the last day before break. Finally, the last day till freedom and they only had twenty minutes left of last period. This was it, and he'd be free for two weeks. It was a wonderful feeling, the anticipation of winter break. _I only have twenty minutes, that's two ten-minute chunks of time which is really four five-minute chunks_ he thought to himself, trying in vain to somehow make the timing seem less than it was. He once again wished he was still in middle school—not really, middle school is the worst—they had a half-day and left at eleven that day. The elementary kids even earlier. It wasn't fair but beggars can't be choosers.

Time ticked by slowly, and kids' attentions were wandering much like Tim's own. There was fresh snow on the ground outside from last night and while it still hadn't been completely cleared away it wasn't enough for a snow-day. Suddenly the loudspeaker crackled on, causing the teacher to stop explaining the current math problem on the board. They all listened in silence wondering what the principal or main office had to say to the high schoolers. There was nothing, no words came…but it was clear the speaker was on. Tim frowned, something wasn't right. There was the sound of crashing and a panicked scream before the connection cut out. Everyone stayed in their seats, looking at one another stunned,

"What was that?" one girl, Sasha Tim thought her name was, asked,

"I—I don't know," the teacher replied, eyes wide and the problem on the smartboard forgotten. Suddenly the lights cut out, several people screamed. Tim tensed, wondering if he should risk it all and try to creep away to change into his Red Robin costume…or try to contact someone outside the school,

"There's no service!" a kid hissed, waving his phone around as if that would help. Tim gritted his teeth before looking over at the teacher,

"Lock the doors!" he growled, the teacher looked at him stunned before another girl, coincidentally closest to the door screamed,

"Look!" she pointed at the door and Tim could feel the adrenaline rush through him as he stared into the masked eyes of a Talon. He sat frozen where he was…wondering why a Talon was at the school. They knew Darren didn't go to Gotham Academy, they knew the Bats were smarter than that. And that left only one explanation, they were there for Tim…or Stephanie—Tim grimaced at that, he needed to find her. She wouldn't be on this floor at the moment, as far as he knew that was.

Tim and the Talon seemed to lock eyes, their glares sharp enough to cut steel. The Talon only seemed to be daring Tim to try and move, to try and stop him which was odd. Tim knew better than to try. He was a civilian and he could not endanger the other kids around him in a stupid act of bravery that would surely get him killed. Everyone around them looked at the assassin with fear in their eyes, unable to talk or move. They remembered the Night of Owls…they knew what Talons could do.

The Talon broke their staring contest first and glanced around the room, as if looking for someone. Tim also found that odd…if they weren't here for him, who were they here for? Who was missing from this room? Tim started counting heads and naming each of the kids…he had memorized the list of kids in each of his classes from the very first week of school for this very reason.

The Talon did one last sweep before letting out a grunt and turning away from the room. Running off down the hallway. Tim leapt to his feet and slammed the door shut behind the assassin, locking it firmly. Silence echoed harshly in the room before it was broken by a peppering of every possible voice in the room,

"—what's going on?"

"—Why is that _thing_ here?"

"—Where did it come from?"

"—What is it doing?"

"—We're going to die, _WE ARE GOING TO DIE!"_

"—My father will hear about this! We're suing this school!" Finally, the teacher couldn't take it anymore,

 _"ENOUGH!"_ she shouted, her voice cracking slightly betraying her own fear and worry at the situation at hand, "We need to stay calm and stay put…the police no doubt know what is happening and are coming as we speak,"

"What good will that do?!"

"That was a Talon… _thing!"_ Tim rolled his eyes as he edged backward, towards the backdoor which he still had yet to lock. He had figured out who wasn't in their room. Ducking silently through the door, locking it from the outside as he did so, he started into the darkened hallway. Livia hadn't been in the room, she'd been in the bathroom and if the Talon wasn't here for Tim or Stephanie…then somehow and for some reason they were there for her.

Tim pulled out a communication device and shoved it in his ear. They may have cut the power and cell phone service in the area surrounding the school, but there were no EMPs activated in the area, the comms—which operated on radio frequencies—would work,

"Stephanie?" he whispered, a hand to his ear as he peered around the corner,

"Tim?" came Stephanie's muted reply. Her tone surprised, "What is going on? The lights are out everywhere and there's no service,"

"Where are you?" he asked,

"Bathroom,"

"Are you _serious?"_ he groaned, clucking his head against the wall he leaned against, "That is the single worst place to be in the event of a lockdown," he hissed back, worry snaking up his spine,

"You think I don't _know_ that? So sorry I had to pee right when the school was attacked! And just so you know mister smarty pants it's just as bad to wander the halls…so I stayed here. Timothy, what is going _on?"_

"Talons are in the school,"

 _"What?_ Where are you?"

"In the hallways—,"

"— _Tim!_ I literally just said—"

"—looking for you!" she let out a frustrated huff,

"They wouldn't be after me," she hissed,

"Well they aren't after me either, they're after Livia,"

"—What?"

"Yeah, I know it makes no sense but that's what I've deduced at least,"

"Well…there's a slight problem,"

"What?"

"She's in the bathroom with me," Tim bit back another groan and just let out an exasperated sigh instead,

"Where are you two?"

"Third-floor bathroom…near the middle school building," the two schools were connected on the third floor. No one knew why or really how it was managed but that was what happened, no one questioned it. Why Livia had gone all the way there instead of the bathroom around the corner was beyond Tim…but he also knew it was because she'd had enough of class and was taking the longest way to a bathroom and back in the hopes of class ending before she returned. He understood that Tim had done that himself plenty of times. Tim left the safety of his corner and darted towards the nearest staircase,

"I'm coming to you guys and then we are getting _out_ of this building…authorities are probably already on their way, the principal managed to get some signal out before she was killed. They'll be evacuating groups of kids bit by bit. The Talons clearly have orders not to kill innocents in this scenario because many of the Owls' kids go to this school," he muttered into his comms as he sprinted up the stairs. Though to be honest they at least knew Tim was not related to any of the Owls—Stephanie might still be in the clear for that—it was the rest of the student body that they couldn't touch…but Tim opted to not think about that.

Once at the door he was silent and glanced through the glass window before opening it and padding silently towards the hallway that connected the two buildings and to the bathroom. He knew internally that the Talons already knew where he was as well as Livia and Stephanie. They could hear their heartbeats and their conversation probably, but that couldn't be helped. They were waiting for them to run, they knew three teenagers couldn't outrun fully-abled Talons…but they _could_ try to _outmaneuver_ them. Tim pulled out his utility belt—never left home without it—and clipped it around his waist, pulling his uniform shirt over it. This was only just in case they needed to use any gadgets to keep themselves out of the Talon's clutches. They'd keep Livia ahead of them so she wouldn't see, it was the best they could do to preserve their identities.

The Court already knew who they were, they couldn't reveal that truth because who would believe them…what evidence could they bring? They may be the most influential people in Gotham, but not enough to convince an entire city that Bruce Wayne was Batman.

Tim crept towards the bathroom and pushed the door open…totally ignoring the fact that it was the girls' room, that wasn't really an issue at this point in time. He stepped inside the pitch-black room and—was slammed in the face by some sort of heavy, hard plastic rod,

"OW! What the fuck… _Ow!"_ Tim yelled, clutching his nose…which surprisingly wasn't bleeding only hurt a lot,

"Oh my God…sorry…I thought you were one of the bad guys!" a voice, Livia's by Tim's guess, cried out. There was a muttered curse and the sound of tapping on a smartphone before the flashlight button was pressed and Tim could see Livia and Stephanie hunkered down by the end of the little hallway leading into the restroom,

"What the hell did you hit me with," Tim questioned, pinching at his nose to feel the bruise,

"A muscle roller," Livia stated simply,

"And you just carry those around for fun?"

"I have ballet today," she replied haughtily,

"How could you even _see_ where I was? The door had closed,"

"…Magic?" Livia stated shrugging. Tim rolled his eyes,

"We don't have time for this, we need to go now!" Stephanie nodded in agreement, putting her phone away,

"We need to run for it. There's no doubt they know where we are already,"

"Then let's not stand here, let's go!" Livia stated, leaping up and running out the door. Tim sprinted after her and managed to grab her wrist and pull Livia down an adjacent hallway just as a sword slashed right where her head had been,

"Less walking into swords more thinking and running!" Tim growled as they pounded down the hallway and into the middle school building. Stephanie was right next to him while he pulled Livia after them. She was keeping up, barely, but she was doing well enough on her own,

"Why are they after us!" She yelled over the sound of their pounding feet, "And I don't need you holding my hand!" she snapped at Tim. He decided to ignore her and continued pulling her along after him,

"They're not after us they're after you!" Stephanie stated,

"What! _Why?"_

"Yeah… _why?"_ Stephanie asked looking over at Tim. He shook his head,

"No time to really explain!" he called back to them. Tim actually didn't really know why himself, but didn't say that as he took another turn only to skid to a stop at seeing the Talon already at the end of it. The other Talon was behind them and they had no time to turn back the way they came. With a growl, Tim forced open the first door he could find and pulled both girls in after him. He then locked the door and backed away from it with Stephanie and Livia on either side of him.

They were in a kitchen, used for the family and consumer science classes every middle schooler had to take at GA. They backed up against the stove, the counters, and fridge as the door was kicked open and the Talon stepped inside. Tim had no idea where the other Talon went…he didn't really care at the moment. He looked around, trying to find a way out. There were windows…but they'd have to break them first…then he saw the backdoor. Not every room had one at the school, but apparently, this one did,

"Guys…the door," Tim muttered, but Stephanie and Livia only stared at the Talon before them as he…or she…pulled out their sword,

"Livia Baudelaire…the Court of Owls has sentenced you to—," it cut itself off as Livia stepped forward, a glare on her face…Tim wanted to pull her back but felt she would only push him off her if he tried,

 _"No_ …no one, not even some weird cultish Court, will decide when I die," she hissed and she flung her arms out in front of her. Drawers suddenly pulled themselves opened…Tim, Stephanie, and the Talon looked on in utter shock as Livia then waved her hands upwards and dozens of pieces of cutlery rose with the motion, she then swiped her hands towards the Talon and the pieces flew at him. Everything, even the spoons, forcefully impaling the Talon like a pin cushion,

"Where's the gas line?" Livia asked Tim as she twisted a hand towards the doorknob of the back door. It clicked open. Tim, still stunned, pointed to the right. She slammed her other hand onto the tiled floor and a rusted, deadly-looking destructive sheen spread across it up to the gas-line destroying a part of it. Tim got the gist of what she was doing and grabbed Stephanie by the arm and hauled her out the door, Livia on their heels. With one last sweep of her hand the door closed and with a muttered word, Tim could not hear what Livia hissed, the whole room exploded behind them as they sprinted down the other hallway. Tim didn't know what the hell had just happened, but nonetheless, it gave them time to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...things are happening!! I hope you liked this chapter! And are excited about things starting to speed up in this story. Let me know what you think of this school invasion by Talon's and where you think this plot is going!! 
> 
> As always PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT!


	20. Chapter 20

Darren was messing around on some of the equipment down in the Cave when an alarm sounded. Cautiously he jumped off of the rings and padded over to the giant screen of the Batcomputer. A piece of technology he was told never to touch, not because he wasn't trusted with it but because he did not know how to operate it very well. In this case, he didn't have a choice and he scanned the mess of buttons and knobs before sighing and picking one at random to push. He supposed he could have called Damian down from upstairs but the kid had been in a pissy mood all day for some reason. Alfred was at the grocery store and Bruce was in Metropolis for some sort of business event held by Lex Luthor, much to everyone's annoyance. Bruce couldn't get out of it so he was forced to go.

After pressing the button, Darren stepped back with a worried frown on his face and stared apprehensively at the large screen as it flickered for a few moments before showing a security feed from what appeared to be Gotham Academy. What Darren saw enraged him. _Talons_ were in Gotham Academy. The two appeared to be systematically searching every high school classroom in search of someone. Darren toggled a knob to change the feed, seeing police authorities working to sneak dozens of kids out of the school one classroom at a time. The Talons didn't appear to be hurting anyone, there were only two…which implied this wasn't an important mission. Darren didn't understand why they were there…were they after Tim? Or Stephanie? They knew they couldn't do anything to anyone in the Wayne family—or to someone as close to the family as Stephanie was— it would look bad for the Powers. Darren switched to another camera and jerked backward away from the keyboard in utter surprise and shock.

The Talons wouldn't be sent to Gotham Academy for no reason at all and if it wasn't to kidnap or kill Tim and Stephanie…then it had to be for someone else. That someone being _Livia_. An indescribable feeling seared through Darren which he could only understand as uncontrollable rage and worry…as well as anger towards himself. There was only one person he had divulged Livia's name to and it was Malik. The Talon betrayed him and now Livia was in danger because of Darren's reckless actions to get the truth. He didn't know if they wanted to kill her or kidnap her to use against him in some way but that didn't matter.

Darren glanced back around the Cave…wondering what he should do. He was not allowed out as Renegade, Bruce had made that abundantly clear. Bruce was out of town, Alfred at the store, Darren didn't want Damian anywhere near the Talons because everyone would kill him if Damian got himself killed facing the Talons at the school by himself, Dick was in another city as well helping the Titans, Dick would kill Darren if he even offered Barbara the chance to save everyone at the school…there was only one thing he could do, and he would do it whether he got in trouble or not. This was his mess, this was his fault and Darren would ensure that it was fixed. Turning from the computers, Darren sprinted to the glass case that held his suit. No one was going to die that day…no one except the Talons that dared put his friends in danger.

* * *

Darren arrived at where he'd last seen the three running in the hallways of the school just as an explosion sounded. He didn't know what caused that but it meant nothing good. Turning, he sprinted in the direction of the smoke and nearly collided with Livia. He grabbed her shoulders to keep her from completely plowing into him,

"Ren—Renegade," she gasped, out of breath and surprised,

"You're okay!" Darren exclaimed,

"Of course I am," Livia replied, "…I blew up the kitchen," she added proudly as Tim and Stephanie appeared,

"Renegade," Tim said clearly relieved, "Please tell me you brought help," Darren glared at Tim before replying,

"Sadly it's just me,"

"Are you kidding, we're fine. I nuked those crazies," Livia stated, Darren winced at that before sighing,

"Hate to break it to you, he's not dead," Livia stared at him,

"And there's still another one somewhere around here," Tim added,

"That's impossible…the kitchen exploded and—oh my God it did nothing to slow it down!" she gasped, pointing back towards the smoke as a rapidly healing Talon appeared limping towards them,

"Yeah, 'it'," Darren muttered before letting out a sigh and pulling out a rebreather,

"We don't have those if you're going to—," Tim started,

"You don't need it," Darren growled, shoving the rebreather in his mouth and tossing a small little bomb at the Talon. He then turned, grabbed Livia by the hand, and sprinted down the hallway to his right as the bomb went off showering the area in red smoke, the sounds of agonized retching echoing after them for a few moments as they ran before it mercifully stopped,

"Was that what I think it was?" Tim hissed at him, "You _weaponized_ the Serum?"

"I was toying with the idea for a while. What better time to test it out than now," Darren replied, after spitting the rebreather out—they were a safe enough distance away by that point,

"That was an insanely _dangerous_ thing to do! You could have _killed_ yourself making that!" Tim snarled at him,

"Do you two know each other?" Livia asked, huffing as she tried to keep pace with Darren,

"No," they both said at the same time. Secretly Darren was thankful for Livia's interruption, he didn't want the lecture,

"Are those Talons?" she asked, Darren, grimaced,

"Yes," he replied shortly,

"And they…don't die?"

"Very little will kill them,"

"And you're one of them?" Darren jerked to a stop,

"How do you know that?" He demanded,

"I-I guessed," she stammered, wary of his sudden anger. Darren let out a sigh,

"Yes. I am like them,"

"And yet you try to keep Gotham safe? You don't… _want_ …to kill people?" Darren opened his mouth to reply but Tim interrupted them,

"Less talking more getting the hell out of here!" he snapped, Darren nodded and turned the nearest corner. Only to jerk to another stop at the Talon he saw at the other end of the hallway, the Talon hadn't seen them yet but Darren still recognized him,

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me… _Ralph?"_ Darren exclaimed, the young Talon—in age rather than in the order they were turned—snapped his head in their direction,

"Oh yes, call out the name of the person we're running from," Stephanie muttered from behind,

"You _know_ him?" Tim demanded,

"Yeah, my great-grandfather killed him,"

"—You're… _wait what?"_ Livia cried as Ralph started running towards them, pulling out a dagger as he did so,

"Never mind," Darren stated, pulling her and the others into the nearest room. It was an empty classroom. No desks in it, they were in the older section of the school and a lot of the rooms weren't in use due to construction on this side of the buildings that make up the academy. Darren picked up the nearest and only chair left in the room and tossed it out the window. Turning to Stephanie and Tim he nodded towards it,

"Jump," they didn't hesitate. They leapt gracefully out the window,

"What the hell! Is jumping out of buildings a common activity here?" Livia screeched. Darren regarded her warily, glancing at the door he'd jammed closed briefly, before holding out a hand to her. Ralph pounded at the door, trying to get it opened,

"I know that perhaps you do not trust me right now…seeing as this is entirely my fault they are after you. I didn't think they knew we had gotten…uh… closer…I didn't think it would matter to them and I am—," he didn't get to finish his sentence as Livia stepped forward and took his hand,

"You have nothing to apologize for. I trust you. I _know_ you," she said gripping his hand firmly,

"Then we need to jump,"

"Okay…that I'm not so sure abou—," she never got to finish his sentence as Ralph smashed through the door,

"Always with the dramatic entrances," Darren growled at his old year-mate,

"Interfere with my assignment and you'll die," was all Ralph said. Darren tugged Livia closed to his side before pushing her to the corner of the room as Ralph tossed a dagger at her. Darren then leapt at Ralph, the Talon claws he thought he'd never again wear, extended and ready to kill. Darren swiped downwards and tore a chunk of the floor out instead of Ralph's face, the other boy had leapt out of the way in the blink of an eye. Ralph was standing to his right, his sword already drawn and he swung it downwards. Darren rolled away, the tip of the sword missing his neck by an inch,

"You know you can't outrun the Court," Ralph sneered as they danced back and forth, swiping and slashing missing each other by mere inches and centimeters each time, "And even if you manage to defy them and fight by the Bat's side, they can't protect you forever…they will die and you will live on…we will be all you have left," Darren was sick and tired of people saying that to him. He grabbed Ralph around the middle and tossed him through the nearest wall,

"Jump!" he yelled at Livia,

"I don't know how!" she cried back. Darren turned to her moving to grab her hand and jump with her only to be tackled from behind by Ralph. They wrestled with each other, both trying to get on top of the other. In the end, it was Darren thrown flat on his back with Ralph straddling his waist, his Talon mask leering over him,

"You know I always wanted to kill you. It was _your_ stubbornness that nearly got me killed _without_ being turned. I don't even think the Owls would care," he sneered in Darren's face, a Serum dagger in Ralph's grip hovering just over his heart. Livia suddenly appeared behind Ralph and swung her backpack at him with all her strength,

"Get off him you Sasquatch!" She snarled. Ralph turned and growled at her, reaching to grab her. Livia scrambled away, dropping her bag in the process. Darren, using the distraction to his advantage, threw Ralph off of him once again and lurched himself towards Livia. Picking her up with him, he stumbled slightly due to the angle he had picked her up at as he jumped out the window. Partway through the window, Darren realized that at this angle he'd land on Livia and in desperation reached out a hand to grab onto the window sill. They were too close to the school's stone walls to try flipping them around midair to change how they would land.

Darren clutched the edge, both of them panting. Darren held Livia close to him, her arms snaked around his middle, and was about to let go of the ledge when a searing, roaring agony pierced through his hand. He yelled out in pain and glanced upwards to see Ralph above him, another Serum blade in his grasp ready to make the final kill, the first knife impaled through his hand up to the hilt, keeping it pinned to the building. He couldn't let go even if he wanted to,

"Sorry Livia, hold on," Darren hissed quickly as he let go of her, causing her to squeal in fear and tighten her arms around his middle even more. He pulled out a flashbang and before Ralph could plunge his second dagger into Darren, this time at a more lethal place—his jugular most likely—threw it into the room. He squeezed his eyes closed tightly as it went off. Ralph staggered away from the window screeching in pain, blinded by the brightness. He didn't know how much time that left him. That was one flashbang, not two…Ralph wouldn't be incapacitated forever,

"Let go!" Tim called up to him,

"I can't!" Darren snapped down, "Why is it always my hand?" he muttered to himself,

"Renegade! I'm slipping!" Livia cried. Darren tried to grip her arm but she slid right through his grasp, forcing him to grab onto her hand. Gritting his teeth he pulled himself up partway by his injured hand—ignoring the fresh agony it brought—to peer into the room. Ralph was on his hands and knees, feeling around for the knife he dropped or a different weapon to use to finish the job he started. Now that Darren had the Serum—albeit a low concentration—in his system, he could be killed like any other human: _easily_. Darren considered their situation. He needed to stop Ralph and get the others to safety. The only way he was going to do that was by freeing his hand and he needed his non-impaled hand to do that,

"Livia,"

"What? What is it?" Darren cringed with regret,

"Livia—," he started, but she started to try and speak over him her panic getting the best of her, _"Livy!"_ he cried…that shut her up,

"I'm sorry…but I need to let you go,"

"What! _No!_ This is at most two stories up! I don't jump off rooftops every day like you do!"

"Tim will catch you!"

"I'm as tall as he is…maybe taller!"

"I can hear you!" Tim called up to them,

"You'll be fine!" he insisted ignoring Tim, he'd better catch her or he'll have Darren to deal with,

_"No!"_

"It's either I do it when you know it's going to happen or you drop when I'm killed by this psycho above us!"

"I heard that asshole!" Ralph sneered from the room,

"You were meant to!" he yelled up at Ralph before saying to Livia, "I fell three stories and lived!"

"You broke every rib in your damn body and you're a regenerative assassin!"

"Happy landings!" Darren said having enough of their arguing as he let go of her hand. Livia's face morphed from shock to anger as she clutched at his hand, trying to hold onto it even as her grip failed her. While she was very strong in her own way as all dancers were, her grip was not at the level any of the vigilantes were and Darren felt only an instance of regret at the sudden fear in her face as her hand slid from his and she fell. Darren didn't see whether she landed or not, he'd rather not see her crumpled to the ground if Tim had not gotten there in time to catch her.

Instead, he pulled himself up and ignoring the glass that pierced his forearm as he laid it on the broken window sill, grabbed the knife, and yanked it out. He switched hands then, putting the left forearm on the window sill to hold him up and used the other to grip the Serum blade and as Ralph leapt at him a pocket knife, left behind by some worker or another, in hand Darren arced the blade into Ralph's eye, the front orbital rim of the skull cracked by the force of the blow. The dagger plunged right through to the back of his skull. He ignored the blood that splashed his face and made his grip on the window sill slippery, Darren merely watched as Ralph fell backward and then let go of the edge. Falling to the ground and landing gracefully.

Darren instantly looked for Tim, Stephanie, and Livia. He found Tim and Stephanie trying to use their phones and looking around for any kind of police authority near the back end of the school,

"Where's Livia?" Darren asked, looking around worriedly,

"She's right over—," Tim started,

"—Here!" she snarled and Darren whirled around, Livia looked pissed,

"How dare you!" she snarled,

"I'm sor—," he didn't get to finish as her hand cracked across his face, _"OW!"_ he cried out, stunned by the actual pain of the slap. Tim let out a loud cackle, Stephanie elbowed him with a glare,

 _"Happy landings?"_ She seethed, "H-how _dare_ you drop me like that!" Livia snarled shaking out her hand from the slap before rushing at him. Darren tried to sidestep her but she threw her arms around him in a hug. He stared over her shoulder at Tim and Stephanie in utter confusion,

"I thought you were mad," he stated,

"I am! But I'm mostly relieved," she stated, "Just don't _ever_ drop me from a building _again_ ," she poked him in the shoulder sharply at each word, her eyes narrowed. Darren wasn't really paying attention, he was just probing his cheek and wondering why she had gone from slapping him to hugging him. Darren was at a loss as to why, hadn't he saved her life by letting her drop? Apparently, that bit of information slipped Livia's mind, but at least the worst of it was over.

* * *

A few moments later a few EMTs finally found where they were standing in a clump,

"I found some other students!" one guy called into their walkie-talkies, "Are any of you hurt? We heard an explosion,"

"No, we're fine," Tim replied, "Where is everyone? Did they get out okay,"

"Yeah, everyone is accounted for. Just three were missing and they appear to be you guys. Let's get you back to everyone out front and we'll check you all over just to make sure there's nothing that needs to be treated,"

"Did you three jump through the window?" another EMT asked, stunned, looking at the chair on the ground and the shattered glass around them. The three students glanced at each other,

"Uh…yeah…with the help of Renegade," Tim stated, nodding over at Darren,

"Renegade…are you alright?" one of the EMTs asked warily. Darren stood a few ways away wavering on his feet. The Serum may not have been very strong, but it was still affecting him…plus he was covered in blood. He probably didn't look that great,

"No, he's not. Come with us, we can treat you out front," another guy said, noting the blood coming from his hand and forearms,

"No!" Darren cried out suddenly very aware of everything. He was not letting his blood anywhere near an ambulance, "No…I'm _fine_ ,"

"Really, we should get that looked at, there is _glass_ in your arms," the first to speak urged,

"It's alright. I can get him help," a new voice stated. Darren whirled around to see Nightwing walking over to them,

"I thought you were helping the Titans," Darren exclaimed, a grin in place which faded at Dick's glare,

"And I thought you were at home doing your schoolwork," Dick stated, "Agent A sent out an alert upon discovering you were missing," the other EMTs let out a few chuckles, one shook his head as if to say _'kids these days, running off to save a school from murderous assassins instead of doing their homework'_ Darren did not appreciate that. He chose to ignore them,

"Oh," Darren muttered in reply, perhaps he should have left a note,

"Let's get you fixed up. Those three are in good hands," he said, nodding for Darren to follow him back to the Batmobile,

"Of all the things you have done this is by far the stupidest," Dick muttered, slinging Darren's arm over his shoulder and helping him along,

"Ugh," Darren groaned, "Bite me,"

"Maybe I'll sic Titus on you later, that'll teach you to go get poisoned days after fully recovering from your last injury,"

"Oh please give it a rest. I'm going to get enough of a lecture from Alfred,"

"Wait till Bruce gets back tonight, then you'll be in for it,"

"This time burn my body will you?"

"Don't joke," Dick said sternly,

"Sorry…but to be fair, I'm delirious right now,"

"Clearly," a new voice said, both boys jerked to attention, and Darren, through slitted eyes could see the outline of a dark-haired woman in front of them,

" _Zatanna_ …what are you doing here?" Dick exclaimed surprised,

"I was passing by and felt an unusual surge of magical energy for Gotham. It was some powerful stuff. I came to investigate,"

"No magic here…just explosions and death," Darren deadpanned, his speech slurred and warbled for some reason... and he didn't know why he said that at all,

"Will he be…okay?" the woman asked, a worried look crossing her face,

"He's just poisoned…he'll be fine,"

"Huh _'just poisoned'_ only you Bats would think that's a minor injury," she muttered with—what Darren assumed was—an eye-roll. The woman seemed to consider something before speaking once again, Darren was getting impatient, his hand was hurting, he was dizzy and he was either about to pass out or throw up and he did not want to do that in front of the pretty magic lady, "…he's an odd one. I can't read his mind…I don't even think my magic could heal him if I tried. Not only that but he reeks with an aura of death,"

"He's a Talon…that might be why," Dick replied mutely, as if unsure of how to react to such a statement,

"I don't know what that is…but I'd love to read about it if you'd send me the file on them. After I figure out what it was I sensed over here of course,"

"Will do I really need to get…" the conversation got cut short as Darren went limp in Dick's arms. Passing out fully from exhaustion and the Serum yet again in his veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ralph hath returned!! Only to immediately die...whoops. All that drama over becoming a Talon for nothing. Hope you guys liked this chapter! I am honestly missing the comments, they really made my day. 
> 
> For those who may be wondering, three stories are around 32 feet so I'd say two stories is like 22 feet or something of the sort. Probably nothing to a vigilante but to a civilian like Livia, that's a lot. 
> 
> As always if you have any thoughts, questions or concerns PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT!

**Author's Note:**

> There we go, a nice start to the second 'book' of this series. Let me know what you think so far! I know it's not a lot to go off of but I would love to hear your thoughts and opinions as well as ideas of what might happen this time around. As always PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT if you have any questions/concerns I will answer as best I can without revealing too much of what is in store.


End file.
